


The Best Gift Of All

by brimstonegold, virtualpersonal



Series: The Best Gift Of All Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, Alternative Universe - Sam is not a hunter, Angst, Bottom Sam, Christmas, Curtain Fic, Dean and Sam are not brothers, Domestic Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Holiday, Hot Sex, Hunter Dean, Hurt Sam, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, Non-Hunter Sam, Physical Therapy, Protective Dean Winchester, Romance, Sam Whump, Sam is a Dad, Schmoop, Sexy Times, Top Dean, doting parents, gruff Dean, past domestic abuse and violence, short flashbacks of past abuse, xmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 17:38:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 64,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2741249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brimstonegold/pseuds/brimstonegold, https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam runs away from and abusive relationship, taking his daughter with him. On the road and trying to get as far as possible on limited funds, his car breaks down. Against his better judgment, Dean, a mostly retired hunter and the town mechanic, offers to let them stay with him until repairs can be made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Najlepszy prezent](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7789315) by [Maire1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maire1/pseuds/Maire1)



> [](http://tinypic.com?ref=js0y2e)   
> 
> 
>  
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> Co-written with Brimstonegold
> 
> Inspired by this video [by the awesome herebutnotremembered](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HYlSljSSU0)

Dean was tired and his leg was aching fiercely enough that he was limping badly and wished he had his cane. It had been a long day. There had been a big accident on the interstate due to a whiteout during the earlier snowstorm and all the local tow trucks had been called in to help clear out the cars. The cold didn't do a helluva lot to help, only making his leg ache more. An honest day's work sucked ass.

He hated that he'd had to 'retire' from actively hunting but he had more screws in his leg than he had loose in his head. That's what Bobby would've said anyway...if he'd survived that last hunt. Bobby had left Dean everything in his will since Bobby didn't have any family. With Bobby gone, someone had to take over doing research, manning the phones to back up other hunters pretending to be FBI or whatever. Dean still went out to help hunters sometimes if they needed it. He could do back up, he just wasn't much good on the front lines if it required running or jumping. Even digging up a grave was a strain now. And that sucked ass too.

The first year after that final hunt had been sheer hell. He'd had more operations on his leg than pieces his leg had been broken into from the cave-in. He and Bobby, they'd gone after a wendigo, nailed it, but the bastard had set up some deadfall traps. They were headed out and Dean felt the tripwire as his ankle caught it. Neither of them had seen it. Neither of them had expected it. They started to run for it then Dean felt the hand in his back shoving him forward. The collapsing roof, it killed Bobby instantly they said. Dean had been half buried under rubble. He'd suffered broken bones, a concussion, and his right leg was broken up so badly it might as well have been crushed. 

When he and Bobby hadn't returned to their room, search teams were sent out and Rangers had found their Jeep. Dean had apparently been trapped for over a day, though he had been in and out of it for the most part and didn't really remember much of anything other than pain and calling for Bobby. He was damned lucky they found him at all, though many times, he wished they hadn't and that he'd died there right alongside Bobby.

It was his fault. He'd tripped the trap and maybe if Bobby hadn't taken that extra micro second to shove him forward, Bobby might be alive now too. Yeah, probably busted up to hell and back, but alive.

This last year had been better, more or less. He'd sorted out Bobby's business and got it back up and running again. Bobby's life insurance was pretty much gone, most of it paying for Dean's hospital bills and nurses and rehab. He finally had to stop going to rehab because he just really couldn't afford it anymore and didn't see the point. He could usually walk without a limp, or without much of one at least, unless he was on the leg too much or he was out in the cold for too long. Today, it had been both. 

What money he had left he put into the business to keep it running. Since he couldn't hunt and driving for more than six or seven hours got his leg to hurting like a mother fucker, he'd resigned himself to taking over Bobby's job. He'd expanded the salvage yard to doing car repairs on older model cars, the ones before all the damned computer crap. He rebuilt engines and had a handful of loyal customers. Between that, towing, and the salvage yard, he made enough to get by. He had even managed to start saving money, something of a foreign concept to him. He had never thought about getting too old to work, figuring the job would get him killed long before he had to worry about that. All things changed though and it looked like he would live into retirement and he'd need money to live on. He also had to have money to lay his hands on unique items needed for rituals some hunter might need or old books that had valuable information in them. 

Dean limped into the little twenty-four hour diner, rubbing his hands to try to warm them. The snow had stopped but it was still pretty damned cold out there. He waved to Bess the waitress. She was an older woman, her hair streaked with gray, a little chubby around the middle, and real nice. She'd come over and checked on Dean once Dean moved into Bobby's place. Everyone in town knew Dean was sort of Bobby's adopted nephew, that Bobby and Dean's dad had been friends. Maybe Bobby had been the town nutcase, but that didn't mean people didn't like him and they sort of took Dean in, watching over him until he got his feet back under him. Literally. It was all new and strange to Dean and he still tended to be secretive and leery of the townsfolk, but he was coming to terms with the idea that this was his life now.

He settled down at the counter and Bess brought over a coffee. "Heard about the mess on the highway." She set down a bottle of aspirin on the counter. "What's your pleasure tonight, Handsome? And it's on the house."

"Yeah, it was a real mess," Dean said opening up the bottle of aspirin and pouring out four. He'd take something stronger when he got home. "Nobody really got hurt bad, mostly just a bunch of fender benders and cars scattered all over the place. Must have been twenty or thirty cars. Once we got them back on the road, most of them were drivable though. Ah, give me country fried steak. What's the pie tonight?" He had long since given up arguing with Bess when she said it was on the house.

"Dutch apple, blueberry--which I'd stay away from--cherry, coconut crème and chocolate cream."

"Apple," Dean said with a nod.

"I'll get the order in. Skip the salad I'm guessing?"

Dean gave a nod. "Yeah, in no mood for rabbit food tonight. And gimme some chili to go. I gotta feeling I'm not going out tomorrow unless I have to."

"We've got fried chicken. Tim made it. Want me to pack you up one of those too?"

Dean thought for a minute. If his leg was hurting as badly tomorrow as he figured it was going to, he wouldn't be up to standing long, so he wouldn't be cooking anything fancy. Not that he did anyhow really, and Tim made damned fine chicken. "Yeah. And another piece of pie. Cherry."

Looking around the diner he gave a nod to Chuck who worked second shift at the gas station. Maureen and JJ were over in their typical booth playing checkers or chess or something. Debbie and Nathan were cuddled up together talking. He figured Nathan was going to ask the girl to marry him come Christmas. Looked like the weather had kept the other regulars away. 

The only other people in the restaurant were a young man and his daughter. They must belong to that gorgeous machine sitting out in the parking lot, that black 1967 Impala. Man he'd love to look under its hood. It looked so much like his Dad's that he briefly wondered if the guy would consider selling the car. The guy was drinking coffee, the little girl had hot chocolate, and they were looking at the menus. He couldn't see the little girl's face, but he could see the man. The guy was good looking, dark brown hair, muscular, but it looked like he had taken a beating within the past few days. Dean could see the remnants of a black eye and bruising along his jaw. The way he was sitting suggested he might have been hit in the gut too. They looked underdressed for the cold South Dakota night, but he might not be able to see their coats from where he was sitting. It was going on eleven thirty at night and he wondered why they weren't holed up in some motel.

He discreetly watched them as the girl pointed to a picture on the menu and the young man shook his head. "That's too much, Em," he told her. 

It took three choices before he finally nodded. She bounced in her seat apparently happy enough. Bess went over to take their order and Dean heard the guy only order one meal. Bess refilled the guy's coffee then returned to the counter and topped off Dean's.

Dean drank his coffee, letting the heat of the diner soak into his bones. Between the heat and the aspirin, his leg was definitely feeling better. He'd take a hot bath when he got home, let the leg soak for a while. He listened to the father and daughter chatting. She was practicing reading by reading things off the menu, and they played some simple counting and math games with pennies. When their meal arrived, it didn't seem to stop the girl from being a chatty Cathy. When the girl was done and went to the restroom, Dean saw the guy quickly finish off what was still on the young kid's plate and then he brought the plate up to the counter as if not wanting the girl to know he had eaten what was left. The guy gave him a brief smile then returned to the booth. The guy even had dimples, Dean thought with some amusement. Not only hot, but those dimples put him in cute category, too.

The father and daughter left soon after that, the guy picking the girl up and holding her close. Neither had a coat. He wondered if they even had enough money for a motel. Well, not his problem. 

Dean finished the rest of his meal and his dessert at a leisurely pace, then paid Bess for the chili and chicken. Grimacing at the thought of facing the cold again, he pushed the door open. At least it wasn't too long of a drive to his place and the tow truck warmed up fast.

He'd gotten about four miles up the road when he saw the lights of a car pulled off the road and with the hood up. 

"Great," he muttered. When he got closer, he saw it was the '67 Impala. "Careful what you wish for," he muttered with a sigh, remembering how much he'd wanted to look under the hood. He pulled in front of the car and backed it up a little, put the truck into park and put on the parking break but left it running. Out of habit he made sure his 9 mm was secure in its hidden holster in his coat, then he eased himself out of the tow truck's cab and limped toward the guy, his hands in his pockets. His right hand he had slipped through the special pocket access and gripped the gun. He might be 'retired,' but that didn't make him stupid. The hunter in him said these two weren't dangerous, but it never hurt to be prepared.

"Need some help?" he asked the guy who had a blanket wrapped around him as he studied the engine as if by some miracle the problem would simply identify itself. He saw the girl wrapped up in a couple blankets in the front seat.

Sam's heart was still hammering against his chest. Just the sight of headlights slowing down and clearly making for them had him tense until he saw it was only a tow truck. Pulling the blanket tighter, he let out a deep breath that instantly formed a cloud of mist. _Help_. How often had he found himself in need of it, begging for it in the past six months? People seemed to be fresh out of help these days and sometimes they were there just to heap more trouble on your head. 

"Sure could," he answered, a little wary. Guy was driving a tow truck, it made sense he'd stop when he saw someone with car trouble. Maybe, just maybe this would be a quick fix and he and Emily could be on their way. He stepped aside, making room for the guy. When the guy came nearer, Sam gave a small smile. "I saw you at the diner." Yeah, he'd noticed the guy, at first because of the limp but then he'd seen his face and heard that low scratchy voice and all he could think of was 'bad boy'... just the kind that brought you trouble. 

He licked his lips and drew his gaze away, looking instead down at the engine he knew nothing about. "She was fine, the car, and then the engine just cut out. If you could get her started, I'd be real grateful. We've got someplace to get to before Christmas," he said nodding past the hood, toward Emily.

"Just cut out?" Dean frowned. New cars with their computers and fuel injector crap, those would just cut out. Older cars didn't typically die while you were driving them. Although the light from the moon reflecting off the newly fallen snow made it almost seem like twilight, under the hood it was still all shadows. He pulled out his flashlight and grimaced. Hoses and belts were old, head gasket was leaking a little, sparkplug wires had seen better days...the guy needed a major tune up. He pulled out the oil stick. Oil needed changing but the levels were fine. Same with the transmission fluid. He gave the belts light tugs. There was a little give in them but the headlights were bright. He tilted his head and had a sinking feeling in his gut. He popped off the distributor cap so he could see the rotor. "Try to get the car started. Just one good crank."

The guy did and Dean shook his head, put the distributor cap back on then closed the hood. "You aren't making any more miles tonight. You broke your timing chain. It's rare for it to happen while you're driving, but it happens." He saw the guy's blank look. "Think of it like a bike chain. You can pedal all you want but if the bike chain is broken, you're not going anywhere." 

After dry scrubbing his face, leaving some grease streaked across it in the process, Dean said to the guy still in the car, "Let me tow your car to my place. I can try to get it fixed tomorrow or you can have me take it to one of the other shops. I'll drop you and your girl off at a motel not far from my place. It's nothing fancy, but it's clean and cheap. You and your girl, get in the truck, get warmed up. I'll get your car hooked up for the tow and we'll get you taken care of."

"Daddy, I'm c... cold," Emily said in her soft voice.

Sam put his blanket over her already blanketed body and answered, "I know sweetheart." They'd been without the heater for a quarter of an hour and it was chilly inside the car. "I'll be right back," he told her, rolling his window back up all the way and stepping out of the car. 

The humid cold immediately penetrated through his thin clothes causing him to cross his arms over his chest. "Could have used some better news," he admitted. "Listen, is there a shelter in town? Or an all-night bus station?" He was only too aware that many shelters didn't let people in after a certain time, and that many towns didn't even have any. "Or a hospital?" Hospital lobbies were nice and warm and often no one was around to ask you what you were doing there at this time of the night. Once, he'd have had to force these questions out, but he had Em and a little embarrassment was nothing when he had to keep her safe. 

"No, no, and only a small one." He gave a sigh, knowing he'd probably regret it but he was tired, wanted to get his leg soaking or wrapped up in heat packs and he couldn't just leave these two to freeze. "You can stay at my place for the night. Got a spare bedroom you can use, full bath right next to it." He'd planned on sleeping down there for the night so he didn't have to climb the stairs, but he didn't really want them in his regular bedroom. "You can," he waved his hand, "do my dirty dishes or something in trade." He yawned. "Deal?" he asked tiredly.

Each 'no' had Sam's heart sinking lower and his mind whirling with alternate ideas of where he could take Emily when the guy made an offer Sam couldn't refuse. "Sure is. Thanks, really I... thanks. I’ll get my daughter in the truck and come out and help. Name's Sam, and that's Emily," a slight smile quirked the corners of his lips. 

"You just get you and your daughter in the truck. This'll only take a minute and I can probably do it faster without your help, no offense." After a moment, he added, "There's a bowl of hot chili in the takeout bag. Help yourself. There's water bottles behind the seat. Hopefully they aren't frozen." He knew the guy had to be hungry and hell, he could just eat soup for lunch tomorrow. My name's Dean. Now git, before you freeze your balls off."

The offer of food had Sam wondering how much this guy, Dean, noticed. Probably too much. Still, this was the first run of good luck he'd had in a long time so he couldn't sit there and worry about it. Instead he gave a chuckle, "I think it's too late for that." 

Walking around the car, Sam opened the passenger door and easily lifted Emily into his arms. "Em, this is Mr. Dean, and we're staying at his place for the night," he told her. 

Though she looked at Dean, she gave a yawn and cuddled closer to Sam.

Quickly, Sam got her to the truck and got them settled inside. The engine of the truck was on and so was the heater but he wrapped his arms around Em to give her just a little more warmth, if his body was capable of generating it now that he had frozen his balls off. "Go back to sleep," he said, looking in the rear view mirror. 

He saw Dean's stiff movements as he hooked the Impala up. He could tell the guy was in a lot of pain, and he'd bet the weather wasn't helping, or being out there because of them. Maybe he could help Dean out with something other than the dishes, which he was sure was just something Dean had thrown out there to make him feel better about accepting his hospitality. Sam wondered if there was a missus, then drew his gaze away. So what if there was? It might even be better if there were. 

He hummed under his breath for Em and she never minded that he was slightly off tune, but stopped the minute Dean pulled the door open and got inside. "Really appreciate this," he said, then looked out the front window. 

"I've been down on my luck before too," Dean said gruffly. "It sucks out loud." Dean put the truck into gear and slowly pulled back out onto the road, shifting gears, but keeping the speed down. Between hauling the car and the icy roads, he didn't need any more trouble. "Look...Sam, is it? I got a lot of weapons at my place, scattered all over the place. Make sure your girl knows not to touch any of them. Weapons get touched and your butt's back out in the cold, got it? Got a big dog too. Don't freak. He'll probably bark up a storm until I tell him it's okay and he knows you're not trespassers or something. Make sure he sees the girl too and you don't hafta worry about him hurting either of you." Dean smirked. "He's a freaking pushover once he decides you're allowed there and aren't threatening me."

Once again, Sam appreciated that Dean was making it easier for him to accept help by saying he'd been in tough spots too, it said a lot for the guy even bothering to do that, let alone taking strangers into his house. But the mention of weapons had him tensing, flashing back to what _home_ had been like a half a year ago. Guns in every drawer, boxes of bullets and magazines in cabinets, knives too close at hand when tempers flared. "She won't touch anything," he promised, holding her a little tighter. "What's a mechanic doing with a lot of weapons, no offense," he said, turning his face toward Dean. God, if he'd landed himself in a situation with yet another thug....

"None taken. One, I used to be a hunter, professionally. Two, I have a junkyard now and some stranger passing through sees a guy with a bad leg, I look like an easy target. A lot of the shot guns you'll see are just loaded with salt. Smarts like a bit--" Dean looked at the girl. "--hurts. But without doing anything serious to trespassers other than making them think twice about skulking around on my property. Unfortunately, I can't do much in the way of hunting anymore. I go out on easy hunts sometimes if another hunter calls and wants some help."

Dean glanced over at Sam. "Bobby, kinda my adopted uncle, he collected rare books on the supernatural. Demons, ghosts, werewolves, religious manuscripts, whatever, and did research on 'em. I've got the same interest so don't be freaking when you see all the books and manuscripts. I'm not some devil worshiping weirdo." He'd heard that accusation so many times he figured he might as well lay it all out on the table so he didn't have to see the look in the guy's eyes when they got home. "You aren't comfortable there, then tomorrow we can talk to the local priest. Maybe he can find you another place to stay while your car's being worked on.

"If you're a smoker, no smoking in the house. If you're a drinker, I don't care if you have a beer or two, or a couple shots of whiskey, but no getting drunk. Too many weapons, too many irreplaceable manuscripts. We clear on that?" He glanced back over at the young man to make sure the guy understood his rules. He was tired, he hurt, and he wasn't going to put up with any bullshit, even if the guy seemed nice. He knew all too well how deceiving looks could be.

"Clear," Sam nodded his agreement. Maybe if they'd been on equal footing, he would have said 'okay Dad' and teased him for acting older than his age. Sam figured they were about the same age but the guy had a world weary look to him at times, though Sam might be over-reading. Still, the way he laid out his rules, it was pretty clear he was very set in his ways. Maybe he was regretting the invitation already, but there was nothing Sam could do about that other than make sure that he and Em weren't under foot and didn't disrupt his life, even for the one night they were there. He'd really thought this timing chain thing could be fixed the next day but if it was going to take a few more days, he couldn't impose on the man. He also had to think about a way to get a little money together because the twenty four dollars he had left in his pocket wasn't going to cover parts, let alone labor. 

He fell silent, thinking a little on what this guy's place might be like. Weapons and strange books he'd said. No, it really wasn't a combination that brought any particular expectations to mind, unless he lived in some sort of museum, which, yeah, he didn't seem the type. He stole a glance at Dean's profile. The guy was ruggedly handsome, no question about that. Even with the rather tight and grim expression he was wearing, he couldn't hide that. He had a brash 'take it or leave it' attitude and was up front about it. That was fine with Sam, it was much better to know the lines that you shouldn't cross than to have to guess where they were. He'd had a lifetime of that already, thank you very much. Still, he wouldn't want to cross this guy, he instinctively knew being on the other side of his wrath would not be pleasant. It was odd though, he wasn't afraid of him. Something in his gut told him they'd be safe with this guy.

He suddenly wondered what color his eyes were, they'd seemed light under the moonlight. Letting out a soft sigh, he looked down and saw Em was asleep. Guess she had to feel safe too, he thought, thankfully. 

Dean had to admit, the guy seemed to take what he said without getting all freaked out about it. If he were on the road with his kid and some tow truck driver picked him up and told him the things Dean had just told the guy, he might be a little nervous. Still, it wasn't like the guy had many options apparently.

The rest of the drive was silent, not that there was far to go. He'd picked the guy up about two miles from his place. He pulled right up front to the porch because he didn't want to walk any further than he had to and the motion activated lights came on. Getting out, he left the truck running and lowered their car to the ground so they could get into it, but left it hooked up in case the guy wanted it taken to a different shop. That done, he opened the truck door and turned off the engine. He grabbed the bags of takeout.

"Let's get your girl settled then you can come back out for your stuff," Dean said and limped up the well salted steps to the house, though for the temperatures, the salt wasn't doing shit for the ice. After unlocking the screen door, he then unlocked the deadbolt and regular lock. Opening the door he reached inside and flipped on the light for the living room. Rumsfeld was right there, silent, his hackles raised. Dean gave him a hand signal and Rumsfeld's hackles settled. He gave a loud bark of greeting, his tail wagging.

"We've got company, Rummy." Dean stepped aside and let Sam follow him in. "Kneel down if you can and hold out your hand, let him sniff you, then your daughter. And be prepared to get a slobbery welcome."

Dean tossed his keys on the table by the door and took off and hung up his coat. God, it felt good to be home. 

Sam was right behind him with Emily asleep on his shoulder. "Rummy as in Gin?" he asked. "Hi there boy. Animals usually get along with me," he said, "but meeting Emily is gonna have to wait until morning. She's out." It was obvious the guy hadn't been around kids, at least if he thought she'd wake up just because they'd arrived. From what he could see, the house was a bit of a mess, but it was clean. Like the guy had said, there were lots of books, piles of them on a table. Thankfully he didn't see any weapons. "Where should I put her?" 

"Rumsfeld is his name. Some politician I think or something. Never really asked. I said just let him smell her hand, she doesn't have to be awake. He just needs to know there's a kid in the place. He _is_ a guard dog and he doesn't take well to surprises. He's normally outside, but it's too damned cold at night right now. Take her straight down that wide hall. The door at the end is the bedroom. There's a closet and the other door leads right into the bathroom. Light's on the right."

Dean limped to the kitchen and put the food in the fridge. He looked over his fridge contents. Yeah, cleaning out the fridge wasn't a top priority for him, but he had enough eggs, juice, milk and bacon to feed the two in the morning. 

Oh crap. 

He hurried back to the spare bedroom and saw Sam laying...Emily...down in the queen sized bed. The hospital bed table was pushed off to the side along with the folded up wheelchair in case he needed them. There were Busty Asian Beauty pin-up girls on the walls but that wasn't what concerned him. 

"Hang on a minute there, Dude," Dean said and reached under the pillow, pulling out the gun from beneath it, picked up the shotgun leaning against the wall by the bed, and pulled open the nightstand and took out the silver throwing daggers and hunting knife. "Okay, all yours. Take down the pinup girls and trash them. She," he jerked his chin to the sleeping child, "shouldn't be waking up to those on the walls. Haven't changed them out in a while anyhow." 

He carried the weapons out to the dining room and put them away, except for the shot gun which he just leaned against the wall. Returning to the kitchen he looked at the line of phones on the wall, each labeled with the appropriate government agency. Dammit, he'd need to cover those. He slowly made his way out into the dining room and picked up a towel. It had grease on it, but he didn't care. He duct-taped the towel over the wall above the phones, hiding them. When he came back out, he saw Sam headed for the door. 

"Take the denim coat to wear," Dean told him as he sank down onto the couch. "It'll help against the cold some."

Having heard Dean rushing around, moving things in the other room, Sam had taken his time getting Emily settled and in bed. He wasn't going to wake her to get into pajamas and her clothes were loose enough not to bother her. He'd put the posters away in a drawer and concluded that it meant Dean wasn't married and unless he was dating a model, didn't have girlfriend. Then again he might have a girlfriend who didn't mind the 'eye candy' on the wall, or Dean could have told her to 'take it or leave it.' God knew Sam had been forced to put up with a lot of Dex's bullshit. He didn't want this man to be like Dex, he wanted him to be a man who'd take care of his girlfriend and treat her with respect, not that it had anything to do with Sam. He just liked to think there were people like that out there.

He glanced at the jackets on the coat hanger hooks near the door and reached for the one Dean indicated. Shrugging into it, he was glad to see it was only a little short at the sleeves. Tugging the door open, he walked out and was forcefully reminded of the chill. Going to the trunk he got out a duffel bag and a small backpack, then went to the back seat to get Emily's stuffed bear. By the time he climbed back up the porch stairs, it had started to snow. 

Walking in, he locked the door behind him and met Dean's gaze for a moment, then went to the hall and into the guest room. As he put his stuff down and checked on Emily, he looked around a little more. He could tell the room was in use, and not just as a guest room. When he'd had a regular job, a lot of the rehab patients he'd worked with and who had houses with two floors had rooms set up a lot like this. Some of them converted their dens, others a part of the living room. A room downstairs meant they didn't have to make a climb to the second floor. Now he had to wonder how Dean was going to get up the stairs.

Sam came back out into the living room and stood there, rubbing his neck. "We don't want to put you out. Upstairs or even the couch is fine. Believe me, we've seen plenty worse than a couch," he said, not complaining but just stating a fact. 

"You're not putting me out," Dean said with a shrug. "Believe me I've climbed those stairs in a helluva lot worse condition than this. And I've slept on this couch plenty of times, as well as worse places when I was younger," he agreed with a smirk. "Do me a favor Sam, can you take off my boots and socks and get me that electric blanket," he said, using his chin to indicate the blue blanket draped over the chair. Bending over was not something he was ready to do just yet and he hoped the guy didn't mind. "Then I want you to go raid the fridge or pantry. Your kid's asleep. She won't know you were hungry when you got just her dinner. Just leave me the fried chicken and pie. There's plenty of frozen dinners and pizza in the freezer too. Help yourself to whatever looks good."

Being hungry wasn't something to be ashamed of, and yet Sam felt a flush creep up his face. He'd been right, the man was too observant. It made Sam wonder how closely they'd been watched at the diner and why. Course there hadn't been much going on there that late at night. "Sure thing," he said, crossing in front of Dean and squatting down to undo the laces of his boots. 

_"Get my boots off."_

_"Sure thing, Dex." Sam bent down to unlace Dex's boots. "How... how did everything--"_

_A vicious kick to the chest, right next to his shoulder, propelled Sam backwards, his grunt of surprise and pain completely drowned out by laughter. Holding his shoulder, Sam got up and met Dex's gaze, and that of his men, before leaving the room. They were getting liquored up and it was going to be a bad night._

He blinked and realized he'd pulled Dean's boot off and was just holding his foot. Licking his lips, he pulled the thick socks off and quickly took off Dean's other boot and socks. It wasn't until he stood up that the tension and fear passed. Sam ran a hand over his face, looked around and saw the electric blanket on the lazy boy. Grabbing it, he brought it back and put it over Dean, bending once more in front of him to tuck the blanket under the man's feet. It was already plugged in so he just turned it on and stood back. "Do you want anything? Coffee, tea, a snack?" he asked awkwardly. 

Dean saw something, some bad memory pass over the guy's face and fear touch his eyes. He'd studied the guy when the guy had been frozen in place, caught up in the past. He wondered if it had anything to do with the person who beat the guy up and odds were that was a big fucking 'yes.' He looked at the guy's hands. No wedding ring. Maybe...maybe the mom was an abusive bitch. Or maybe he had lived at home and the dad was a drunkard. Who knew. He wondered where the guy was going for Christmas. Maybe his mom's or grandparents or something. 

It felt so good to get those damned boots off and not to have to bend over to do it, he almost groaned in pleasure. Then the guy practically tucked him in and offered to bring him something. "Some coffee would be good. I like it strong, black. Just to make things clear, you don't owe me anything for putting you two up for the night. Saying thanks is enough. Well, and maybe doing those dishes in the sink. I hate washing dishes." He grinned at the guy. "And thanks for getting my boots off. I appreciate it." 

The electric blanket was beginning to warm and it felt so good on his leg. He might just end up sleeping on the couch because he wasn't really sure he wanted to move again. Reaching over to the coffee table, he grabbed his bottle of pain pills. He always left them there because he never knew where he might end up if he was hurting. He checked the time then dry swallowed one. 

"I'll get you some water for that, it's bad for your stomach and your kidneys," Sam said. 

Dean gave a soft snort. Not like he was up to going and getting the water for himself. He dry swallowed pills all the time, or chased them with beer. 

Entering the kitchen and seeing the sink piled up with pots and pans, Sam gave a loud "Huh. You weren't kidding about not liking to wash."

A quick look in the cabinets netted him a couple of glasses and a mug, which he set on the counter as he got the coffee going. He took both glasses of water inside, set one on the coffee table for Dean and the other one near the lazy boy for himself. Then he went back to the kitchen and warmed up the chili. When he returned, he had his bowl and Dean's coffee, which he put down next to the glass. "Did you want cream or sugar in that?" he asked. When Dean shook his head, Sam went to sit down.

He stirred the steaming bowl of chili, wincing when its smell got his stomach growling. It wasn't like he hadn't eaten at all, for Christ's sake. Yet that first spoonful tasted like the best damned chili he'd ever had. He took another spoonful, then slowed up. "I was watching you earlier," he said finally. "I think you may be getting a tilted pelvis from favoring your leg. There are some exercises that could help stretch the right muscles for that, and to strengthen your leg." Though he spoke matter of factly, he braced, ready to hear 'shut up' or 'you don't know shit' or 'none of your business'. 

Dean had swallowed down about a third of the water, because he was thirsty and hadn't even realized it until the water was in front of him. When Sam returned with the coffee and chili, he sampled the coffee. Damn near perfect. He cocked an eyebrow at Sam's comment about a tilted pelvis. "Nothing wrong with a tilted pelvis if it's tilted the right way at the right time," Dean said, smiling as he drank his coffee. He grew a little more serious then. "Yeah the rehab guy said that might happen. He was going to show me the exercises, but I had to stop going. Couldn't afford it. These damned pain pills cost a fortune anyhow. So you know something about rehab and physical therapy?"

Sam gave a soft laugh at Dean's joke then also got serious. "He could have shown them to you, even if he wasn't going to help you do them," he said, nodding at Dean's question. "I have a physical therapy license, but not in this state. Haven't used it much lately, been getting by offering masseuse services at hair salons and odd places." He gave a dimpled smile. "You wouldn't believe how much business you can get at a truck stop. I have one of those chairs with a cut out for you face, you know the kind you see at malls?" Sure, you had to be state licensed for that as well, but it wasn't as big a deal to be busted for giving a massage versus therapy.

He ate a little more chili, then put the bowl down. "I can help you with the exercises tomorrow. If you want, I can probably relieve some of the pain with a few adjustments and some massage right now. If you're comfortable with that," he added. 

Dean chuckled. "I'm trying to picture some of those big truck drivers getting on a massage chair. That had to be priceless." His eyes practically twinkled at the idea then he refocused on Sam. "Ah, I hadn't really planned on stopping going, but...." he shrugged. He considered the guy's offer. Hell, could it hurt? Well, rehab hurt like a bitch so the actual answer to that was 'probably,' but he was hurting so bad that the thought of getting some relief, any relief, he figured it was worth the risk of the guy screwing him up more. "Yeah, sure, so long as you still agree to do the dishes," he said, grinning. "But finish your chili first. I'm still warming up."

"Dishes are covered," he promised, then picked his bowl up and finished every last drop of his chili. Taking the bowl and Dean's glass, he added them to the stuff in the sink and decided to clean up after Dean went to bed. He went to check on Emily, then came back to the living room holding a small messenger bag. "Why don't I help you upstairs? There's more room on a bed and you'll be nice and flat. There's the added benefit of not having to move again, afterwards," he added.

"Yeah, I was kind of thinking right here was pretty damned comfortable. Can't tell you how many times I don't make it further than this couch." Sighing, he reached over and turned off the electric blanket. Screw the hot bath. He just wanted to crash and the thought of a massage? Didn't hurt that the guy was pretty damned hot. The guy almost certainly wasn't into other guys, not with having a kid and all, but Sam didn't need to know Dean swung either way. "Okay. Upstairs."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean slowly stood, his leg almost giving on him. He cursed softly but felt Sam's strong arms help keep him onto his feet. There would have been a time Dean would have pulled away from someone helping him, but that time was long past. He was crippled when his leg was hurting like this, plain and simple. He hated it, but he had also learned not to take it out on the nurse or whoever was around. Wasn't their fault his leg was busted to hell and back. So instead of telling the guy he could manage just fine, he grunted a thanks and began working his way toward the stairs. If not for the promise of that massage, he would have said screw it and stayed on the couch.

Sam knew exactly how to bear most of Dean's weight to make it easier for the man to walk and get up the stairs, and he had some tricks up his sleeve too. He told stories about the truck drivers' reactions to his having set up his massage chair, exaggerating quite a bit to keep Dean so entertained his mind was off both the pain he was experiencing and the fact he was being helped by a complete stranger. The less Dean strained himself, the better, which meant he had to be distracted from trying to keep from leaning too much on Sam.  
They reached the top of the stairs and just down the hall was an open door, the master bedroom. Sam helped Dean inside and then pulled the sheet and blankets open so that Dean wouldn't be on top of them. Helping him sit on the edge of the bed, he saw the pistol on the night stand and the butt of a rifle sticking out from behind a chest. This _hunter_ seemed to be expecting a war, and yet Sam hadn't seen any signs of mental issues. "Can I help you take off your clothes? Change into light sweats or something?" 

"You haven't ever worked on me before. You and I both know it would be better for you to see where the scars are. I've had so many doctors and nurses and PTs see me in my skivvies, I've kinda lost that shyness. Unless it embarrasses you, I'd really rather have you see the mess you're dealing with when it comes to my leg. I've got the electric blanket to keep me warm afterwards. You cool with that? If not, hand me my sweats." Dean started peeling off his shirts. The guy was gonna think he'd been in a war or something with all the scars on his back and chest. Shot, stabbed, clawed, bitten. Yeah. At least his scars tended to blend in pretty well, but a masseuse, he'd see and feel every one of them.

"I figured you might be too tired for a full adjustment and the cold doesn't help. Of course I'm comfortable with shorts, so long as you are," Sam said, taking the first shirt Dean pulled off, then the second. Then he began to help him with the tee shirt and started to see signs of scarring on his chest and shoulder. Some of the scars looked a lot like places where someone had dug out bullets, and Sam had seen plenty of that. "Your hunting partners were bad shots," he muttered, waiting for Dean to unbutton and unzip, before helped pull his jeans off.

"Killed my first wolf at sixteen. One of the things we hunted was things that went rogue, killing people, livestock and stuff. You got a wolf snapping at your neck, you don't exactly bitch if the shot that takes out the wolf happens to pass through its body and into you, you know? You might swear a lot, but better shot than ripped apart."

The sight of the scars along the side of his leg had Sam frowning. This was as bad as some of war veterans he'd worked with. "Go ahead and lay on your stomach," he said evenly, his eyes briefly meeting Dean's and holding neither pity nor horror. 

"Pretty, huh?" Dean said, slowly pulling himself back on the bed and then easing himself onto his stomach. He was pleased that Sam seemed to be very professional about this and got the impression the guy knew what he was doing and that definitely made him more comfortable with the situation. Maybe he could get the guy to give him another massage before he left if it turned out the guy was good. Hell, he'd happily trade out labor for free PT.

"Impressive," Sam answered, his gaze sweeping down Dean's injured leg. He might have scars but he looked damn good anyway, with his broad shoulders and tapered waist. Course there was the nicely rounded ass that Sam should not be noticing and the fact that his legs were well muscled. It looked like Dean had kept working them, and in shape, despite the pain. 

After looking at the soles of Dean's feet and confirming one leg was shorter, Sam pulled Dean close to the edge of the bed and started to explore the spaces between his vertebras starting low, at his tail bone and moving up. When he reached near his hips, he stopped. "Yeah, your hips have definitely tilted, and not in a 'good way'." He smiled at the image of Dean doing a hip tilt _in a good way_ , then pulled himself together. Not only was the guy straight, but Sam wasn't going to pull anyone into the middle of his problems, which is exactly what would happen if Dex found him and had even the slightest hint that anything had had happened between himself and any guy.

"Still, it's not as bad as I'd thought," Sam added, moving his hands up Dean's spine. "A couple adjustments might do it. But you'll need the physical therapy for the leg, and to keep this from happening again or at least keeping it under control." Standing right next to the bed, Sam put his hand under Dean's knee and lifted his leg, keeping his knee at a forty five degree angle. He brought it back down, and lifted again as he studied him, then, still holding his knee and leg up with both hands, rotated his own body so his elbow pressed down right at the bottom of Dean's ass cheek, applying pressure from posterior to anterior and pressing suddenly. A slight cracking sounded. "Okay?" 

"Better than putting in a dislocated shoulder," Dean said, wincing. 

"One way to look at it. Anyway, that should relieve a little pressure but turn around on your side, I need to get another spot and then comes the fun stuff," he said, helping Dean roll over onto his side, facing Sam.

"Fun stuff. I'm all for fun stuff," Dean said. The guy was right, the pain had lessoned a little but moving and rolling wasn't helping.

"Fun stuff is best kept for last, then you can savor it. Good." He had Dean bend his knees while still on his side, then he pulled his bent lower knee back and his front knee forward so they were scissored. "Now cross your arms, good." Sam leaned in and pressed his knee into the front of Dean's thigh, stabilizing it in place as he held Dean's hip with his hand, finding the right angle. Putting his other hand over Dean's hand where it lay across Dean's elbow, he asked if the weather was always this cold in South Dakota. Just as Dean started to answer, Sam bodily pressed down, shifting Dean's hip into place with a slight cracking sound. "That didn't hurt, right?" He grinned, knowing Dean was probably onto him now.

"Sonuva...!" Dean swore. "No," he gritted. "No more than getting run over by a train. No, wait, the train might have felt better." He took a couple deep breaths and realized the agonizing pain he had been in for most of the evening was beginning to ease. A lot.

"Okay, semi good stuff now," Sam said, rolling Dean flat onto his back after giving him a moment to recover. 

"Can't we just go straight to the good stuff?" Dean asked.

"It's a good thing you're not on a date because I read somewhere that exact phrase is highest on the list of things men have said right before getting slapped. Goes to show, context is everything," he smiled, pretty certain that Dean was just the kind of guy who would not only feel free to talk to a woman that way but had enough charm to get away with it too. "I'm going to massage your psoas muscle, just on this side, and very lightly for tonight." Finding Dean's hip point, he dug his fingers slowly into the flesh right next to it. "Lift your leg, just slightly until I find the muscle," he said, moving his fingers until he had it. "Okay, relax now." He pressed in circular motions. "Your psoas muscle stretches from about your belly button to your hip, and then disappears under other muscles. We're going to loosen it up just a little. It's tender, isn't it? Just let me know if it becomes too uncomfortable," he said. Gently, he moved his fingers an inch over toward Dean's belly button, pushed down a few times, and kept inching his fingers along his stomach. Each time he moved, Dean tensed, his muscles rippled and then relaxed. 

Dean hissed whenever Sam's fingers pressed down on the very tender muscle, but he could tell it something was loosening. 

It was surprisingly hard for Sam to concentrate and force himself to stay professional when he found Dean attractive. It had been a long time since he'd looked at a guy, any guy, with any kind of real excitement or with a desire to find out what was under his shorts. 

He'd hooked up with Dex seven years ago, when he was seventeen, and at first he'd had no reason to look at anyone else. Later, when things got rough, he hadn't dared to even if there had been an opportunity. Hell, he'd been roughed up for supposedly slutting it up anyway and could only imagine what would have happened if he'd really been with someone. 

Slowly, Sam slid his hand over Dean's warm stomach, not for medical reasons, but this time giving more of a reassuring caress. "Okay, I don't want to put your muscles into shock so it's time for the good stuff now," he said, meeting Dean's eyes. Roll over one last time?"

Dean looked back into those hazel eyes and glanced down at the hand caressing his stomach, then back up into the guy's eyes. "You're a tease. I was right there with you until you said roll over." He smirked. So the guy was straight and he just flirted with him. He couldn't help it. Having Sam's hand where it was and then saying the good stuff was coming, his mind flashed right to Sam caressing him a little lower. "I'm rolling," he said with a sigh. It had been way too long since he'd gotten laid.

 _Tease._ Sam was sure this conversation would not be going the way it was if Dean knew he was gay. Then he wouldn't be considered 'safe' anymore and Dean would go into his extreme straight guy routine, or at least that was Sam's experience. It didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the teasing and semi flirting. A slight smile played on his lips as he went to his messenger bag and brought out a tube of cream and some oil. "This is a good, over the counter, anti-inflammatory cream," he said, squeezing the tube. "It should bring down some of the inflammation and therefore the pain, then I've got regular massage oil." 

First he started to massage the cream into Dean's flesh in the areas he had the most pain and tension, his lower back and hip, then he pulled Dean's shorts down on one side so he could get to his tail bone, before moving down to his leg. Under scarred skin, he felt muscles and the places where bone had mended along with the hardware still attached to bone. Those were the areas he lightly massaged with the anti-inflammatory. "I'm gonna leave this for you," he added, putting the tube on the night stand.

"Now... the _really_ good stuff. It's okay if you fall asleep," Sam said, hoping he could get Dean to relax that much. Clearly the guy had gone beyond the call of duty, stopping and taking them in, when he had his own troubles. He could probably just have passed them by and called another tow truck for them.

"You gotta work on your foreplay," Dean mumbled, "though it is a pretty good build up. Damn, I'm envious of your regulars."

"Just getting started," Sam grinned, unable to resist playing along. There was something about this man, something that made him drop his guard and he really had to watch himself or he might end up saying too much and finding his ass and Em's out in the snow. Most people would want to stay out of domestic conflicts, not that Sam could blame them. He did feel guilty about keeping the information to himself but he had no choice. All he could do was pay Dean back by helping him as much as he could between now and he guessed tomorrow. 

Pouring some oil into his hands, Sam rubbed them together, then placed his cupped hands on Dean's lower back, slowly splaying his fingers wide as he pushed his hands up his body, distributing the oil up and out over his shoulders. He repeated the motion, the reach of his fingers covering most of Dean's back with each broad stroke, and ending each stroke by curling his fingers all the way around Dean's shoulders. He watched the way Dean's body moved, how his muscles reacted and identified his tense areas. When he got more oil, this time he kept one hand flat on Dean's back, firmly believing body contact and reassurance was as important as the massage itself.

Dean was full of moans and groans of pleasure. Damn he had needed a massage so badly for so long and not just for the chance to have a hot girl rub her hands over his body. He'd cursed Bobby a couple times for choosing such a freaking cold place to live. His leg ached so badly in the winter. If he thought he could pick up and move someplace warmer, he would, but it just wasn't really practical. Those thoughts sort of left him as Sam's strong hands continued to work on him. Okay, having a hot guy doing the massage was maybe even better. 

Sam started to massage a little harder, putting pressure on certain knots with his thumbs, working them and making sure to take his cues from the way Dean reacted. He kept his hands in motion, stopping only to work out kinks, but otherwise gliding his hands over Dean's back. He gave his shoulders a lot of attention, and his neck, then moved back down. His index finger lingered on an old bullet wound. He moved on quickly, before he could slip into old memories of punishing blows when after digging bullets out of Dex, he'd dared to ask what had happened. He swallowed and shoved the thoughts out of his head and started to massage Dean's ass. He'd been right, it was firm and perfect and he was _not_ going to imagine pulling his shorts down and kissing him right there. Maybe he'd let himself daydream about it later, when he was getting the dishes washed. It wouldn't be right now. Not that he seemed to have that much control over his riotous thoughts.

 _Jesus, it feels good_ was all Dean could think, and his mind wasn't even in the gutter at that point. All those muscles in his ass were tight from his leg and his hips, and well, just shit. He groaned again in pleasure. "You're hired," Dean mumbled with a sigh.

Smiling, Sam moved on to massage Dean's injured leg, grasping his leg from both sides, one palm against his inner thigh, the other against his outer thigh, fingers splayed to cover as much territory as possible as he pulled down and pushed up the length of his thighs. He used a little more lubrication and less pressure, gently getting every part of Dean's leg and then moving to his foot.

Seeing Dean twitch, he wanted to tease him about being ticklish, but he held back. He was pretty certain the man was close to slipping into sleep.

By the time Sam was done, there were no more occasional sounds of pleasure from Dean, only the sound of shallow breaths. Sam pulled the sheets up over his body, and then the electric blanket. Setting it to low, he covered Dean up, then pulled the regular blanket over him as well. He might wake up cursing at being hot in the middle of the night, but the cold would just tense him right back up so Sam took the risk. He knew after a massage like that that Dean really should be drinking water and flushing his body, but Dean needed the sleep more. 

Shutting off the lights, he quietly crept out of the room, barely making any sound even as he walked over the creaky floor boards of the hallway. He was good at doing 'quiet.' No good had come of waking Dex so it was a skill he'd picked up. He regretted that Emily was just as good at doing quiet, but he'd protected her from the worst of Dex's moods, taking the brunt of them. He'd do anything for her, anything. Risk getting arrested, or worse, getting caught by Dex and dragged back. That had just happed two days ago, after he and Em had tasted six months of freedom. When Dex had caught up with them, he'd used Sam like a punching bag, then he'd made the mistake of thinking there was no way Sam would leave again, that he'd take Em. He'd been wrong. This time they'd had less on their backs, they'd lost everything they'd built up in their happy next in Vermont, but they were away from Dex, and that's what was important.

* * *  
True to his promise, Sam washed all of the dishes in the sink, and then dried them and put them away. Though he was bone tired, he'd needed to unwind and go over the day's events in his head. There was nothing better than mindless work for that. It took a lot to resist the urge to reorganize some of the cabinets, but he did clean out the fridge. Getting rid of some of the items that were well beyond their expiration date, he gave the shelves, door and outside of the fridge a thorough wash before putting the food stuffs back in. 

In the guest room, he changed into light sweats and turning off the light, got into bed. It was nice and warm, both from the blankets he'd piled on it and from Em's body heat. Recalling her teeth chattering in the car, how cold she'd been, he leaned over her and kissed her cheek, reminding himself that all those things that could have gone wrong, hadn't. That she was fine. "G'nite sweetheart," he whispered, settling down and finally closing his eyes.

* * *

Getting a six year old to sleep in was impossible so Sam hadn't even tried. They both dressed and went to the living room, with Sam reminding Emily not to be noisy. He set her up at the coffee table, with some crayons and paper, and a warm glass of milk. He put the TV on low so she could watch cartoons, and then decided they needed a nice roaring fire. What was the point of a fireplace if you didn't use it? And this one looked pretty unused to him, which made sense as cleaning it would be a bitch for someone who probably ended each day with pain in his leg and hip areas.

He cleaned the old ash and soot out, making sure not to make a mess, then used some of the logs that were piled next to the fireplace. They were so dry he was sure they'd been bought seasons ago. Once he got the fire going and warned Emily against going anywhere near it even to play with the dog, who was laying comfortably in front of the fire, he headed for the kitchen and made coffee. Having gone through the fridge last night, he knew there was enough to make eggs and bacon for breakfast. He whipped up some eggs for an omelet, adding the vegetables that he found and even a little bit of left over onion. Em was good about eating everything and he hoped she'd stay that way when she grew up.

He planned to only make enough for himself and her so that Dean's breakfast wouldn't be cold when he came down but he heard some creaking floor boards from over his head and figured that was the bathroom adjoined to the master bedroom, which meant Dean was awake. Denying the thrill of excitement that ran through him, Sam efficiently went about getting their breakfast ready.  
While it was still cooking, Em called him so he walked to the door and stood in the frame. "Hmm?"

She peered at him through long blond hair that had escaped from her pony tail, then gave him a huge grin. "Daddy, you look like Cinderella! Doesn't he, Mr. Dean," she added, her face turning toward the stairs that Sam couldn't see.

"Cinder...?" Sam asked, bemused and a little embarrassed.

Dean walked pas Sam and popped his head into the kitchen. The fridge was actually white under the dirt and grease that was now gone and the dishes were all washed and put away. He also couldn't believe how damned good he felt this morning. When he'd woke up, he’d dreaded the thought of even sitting up, knowing his leg was gonna hurt like a bitch. But it hadn't. Hell, he felt like he could even go for a jog or something without wanting to blow his brains out from the pain. There was a spring in his step that hadn't been there for a long time. Admittedly he'd been a little shocked to find a young girl at the coffee table and a fire in the fireplace; it was all a little surreal, but then it all came back to him. His stomach growled loudly at the smell of food. 

"Yeah, he does," Dean agreed. "Looks like he's been working his as..tail off just like Cinderella, too. Didn't even know that fridge was white." He was trying to curb his mouth around the kid, but he wasn't used to having kids around in the first place. 

"You can say the 'A' word, I'm not listening," she offered, looking back down at her coloring.

Sam made a face at her, though she didn't see him. Course she was used to Dex's cursing and shouting and Dean's cursing was mild in comparison. "A little work doesn't make you into Cinderella."

Em looked up. "What work? Silly Daddy, it's the black stuff. Cin...der," she said with a nod for emphasis.

"You mean soot?" Sam's eyes widened and he looked down. His clothes appeared fine but then she was rubbing the tip of her nose and he emulated her. "Thanks for waiting to tell me," he huffed. "Go wash your hands, breakfast is almost ready." He looked over at Dean. "Omelets alright? I could fry some eggs up for you if you prefer sunny side up or something."

"I don't gotta cook? I won't complain unless it's rabbit food. You got the toast going yet?" He made a beeline for the coffee and poured himself a mug and seeing Sam hadn't gotten a mug yet for himself, poured one for him too before sliding the carafe back on the heating plate. "I don't have a toaster. I just use the oven," Dean added. He put the mug down by Sam and then leaned against the counter. He could actually stand that way and it didn't hurt. 

"Let's just say the rabbit food part of it is well hidden." Glancing at Dean, Sam's heart tumbled and he almost faltered, gripping the counter. He'd thought the man was handsome last night but either he was twice as good looking in the daylight or Sam had been too weary to truly appreciate his looks. Shutting the stove off under the pan so the eggs wouldn't overcook, he opened the oven and got the toast started. He hadn't realized there was no toaster and hoped it would warm up quickly. "You can try it, and like I said, it won't take more than a couple minutes to make 'em sunny side up or however you like."  
As he reached to get plates out of the cabinet next to Dean, he noticed the guy had shaved. Dex hardly ever did, at least never before noon. Sam fought the urge to run his hand along Dean's cheek. He had to pull himself together. Besides, he could get used to this, and that was really foolish, especially when the car would either be ready later in the day or they'd be seeing the pastor about other lodgings. That had his heart sinking but he forced a smile; he was good at that. "You should probably claim your place at the table. Emily has an uncanny way of taking the place of anyone who cares." 

"Eh, doesn't matter to me where I sit," Dean said. 

Looking down, Sam slid the large omelet onto a plate and started to cut it up like a pie. "The bacon is over there. Can you take it with you?" After the words left his mouth, Sam glanced up, panicked. "Sorry I wasn't thinking... I'll bring it in." There was no reason to be wary of Dean, the man hadn't given him any reason to be. Now he looked like an idiot, and Sam knew it.

"Dude, I'm not a cripple. At least not this morning," Dean said and walked over to get the bacon. "Well, I doubt you found any real rabbit food in my fridge. Peppers, onions, tomatoes. Those are all good in omelets. Got cheese in them?" Dean asked hopefully as he picked up the plate of bacon and grabbed some paper towels for napkins. He saw the little girl sitting at the table and noticed her shoulders were barely at the level of the table. Dean grabbed the phone book off the little table he usually ate at in the kitchen and carried it into the dining room. After setting the bacon and paper towels on the table he looked at the young girl. "Off the chair, kiddo."

She got out of the chair so fast it surprised Dean. He situated the phone book on the chair, then waved the girl closer. "C'mon. This should help." He lifted her up to sit on the phone book on the chair. "That better?" he asked leaning down a little to meet her eyes. When she nodded, he scooted the chair in for her. 

All Sam heard was _off the chair_ and he was out of the kitchen, ready to step in, his eyes as wide as Emily's. Seeing Dean's gentleness, shame washed over him. He should have known. Damn Dex for.... Blinking away his tears, he returned to the kitchen.

"Daddy? Are you--"

"I'm fine Em, I'll be right there," Sam answered, running his hand over his face, taking a deep breath and then bringing the eggs and the toast to the table. He checked Dean's mug, then sat down and pulled his own closer. 

Seeing Emily eye the bacon, Sam quickly made up a plate for Dean and passed it to him. Then he put some eggs and bacon, and little ketchup on another plate. "Here you go," he told his daughter, putting it in front of her. As they both waited for Dean to taste his food, Sam nodded toward the living room. "I hope you don't mind we used the fireplace. It seemed like the perfect day for it." Feeling Emily's gaze, he smiled, wanting to reassure her. 

Dean was silent for a minute using the excuse of a full mouth. The kid was scared of him being too close. Sam, he was definitely seriously paranoid, acting like a servant or wife afraid of getting hit. Like he'd obviously been recently. 

"It's good," Dean finally said after swallowing. "The food and the fire. That fireplace hasn't been used since before Bobby...for a couple years," he said. "I can't really get down to clean it out by the end of the day, least not in winter and pretty damned silly to do it in the summertime." He looked at the kid guiltily. "You weren't listening and didn't hear the 'D' word right?" Glancing at Sam he said, "Sorry, not use to having to watch my mouth in my house."

"No, it... it's alright, you don't have to edit yourself." The truth was, Sam hadn't even noticed, not when he was used to all the F-bombs Dex used to throw. He gave Emily a look and she immediately reached for her bacon. "She'd live on bacon, if I let her," he said, getting himself some breakfast. He watched Dean eat for another moment, the satisfied sound coming from the man reassuring him, then he took a bite. "You seem to be walking well this morning," he said.

"Are you crooked, Mr. Dean? Daddy helps crooked people, right Daddy?"

Sam searched Dean's eyes for signs of rage, and seeing none, gave an embarrassed laugh. "Kids..." he muttered in explanation. Dean could be gruff, but he was definitely not mean. Probably by the time Sam got used to that idea, it would be time for them to move on. "She didn't mean--okay, she did but-- um, want some jam with that bread?"

Dean laughed. "No, no jam." He looked at Emily and nodded. "Yeah, my leg kinda makes me crooked. Your dad's real good at his job. Haven't had my leg feel this good in a--" he stopped himself from saying 'helluva' and instead said, "--a real long time." Turning his attention back to Sam he asked, "So where are you two headed for Christmas? Home? Parents? Some place warm I hope. But I guess it's a big deal to have snow on Christmas, huh? That way you can see the reindeer hoof prints," he said, winking at the girl. Glancing back at Sam he added, "If you need to call 'em and tell them you'll be a little late, you're welcome to use my cell phone."

"Far far away," Emily answered, licking the ketchup off her fingers. "A surprise place."  
Tensing a little, Sam chewed on his food until he had to swallow. The intensity of Dean's questioning gaze had him squirming a little on the inside. "You know, I'm a firm believer of home is where your family is. I don't think I need to call anyone, but thanks, appreciate the offer. Besides, isn't there a chance the car can be fixed today? Or by tomorrow? I can make good time," he said, avoiding Dean's gaze. 

Dean knew that answer. He'd used it before himself when he was young, when he and his dad were traveling the country hunting for what killed his mom. He also knew he wouldn't want to be called on the carpet about the lie. "Yeah. Assuming the auto place has the parts. You wanting me to fix it, or you want me to tow the car to a different garage? I specialize in older cars but I can recommend one or two other places that'll do a good job for you. No hard feelings if you do and I'll tow you there for free." He didn't want the guy feeling like he was trapped into Dean fixing the car.

"Parts.... Yeah, I thought salvage...." He dropped his fork. "No, I'd like for you to do it, but we better wait on ordering. I ah.... We'll go into town after breakfast, see what's there. I'll take a look at the phone book once Emily is done sitting on it."  
She giggled and picked up her cup of milk, drinking it almost without taking a breath as she watched them.

"I can usually scrape together quite a bit, just have to find the 'right place,'" he said. "If you could just price the parts and labor, I--" Since Dean hadn't quit staring, he rubbed the back of his neck. "I swear I'm not going to stiff you or anything. I just wasn't thinking."

Dean sipped his coffee. The guy was in a tough spot, obviously. "Tell you what, you give me some more PT, get these knots outta my back, and show me what I gotta do to keep my hips from getting whacked, and I won't charge you labor. Parts wise, you're probably looking at...I dunno, maybe a hundred. Depends on if I can find a good deal on the chain. The gasket's gonna run fifteen to twenty five bucks. I might find a chain for thirty, but more likely it'll be closer to seventy. Hopefully nothing got messed up when the chain gave. I doubt I'll get you on the road before tomorrow. Fixing a timing chain, that's four to five hours once you have all the parts. If you're gonna do the PT stuff for me, you might as well just stay here tonight if you're cool with that. And I know you don't wanna hear it, but the hoses and belts, they aren't gonna last much longer. You don't wanna get caught in the winter around here at the side of the road. But you're also talking maybe another fifty or sixty bucks." 

Sam's gaze went to Em. "No, I don't want to get caught like that again. In the snow," he clarified when he heard Emily's indrawn breath. "Dean, you can have all the PT you can take. Course I'll work on you," he nodded. "About your offer to stay, I'd like that." Maybe he was being selfish going back on his decision to get out of Dean's hair by seeing what the pastor could offer, but Sam swore that by the time he left this place, it would be sparkling and organized, and he'd give Dean useful information to help him self-rehabilitate his leg. And even after he left, once he got settled, he could see himself emailing him or talking him through stuff over the phone. The notion of leaving should have excited him, the farther he got, the better. But it didn't. "Think we could borrow one of the cars out front?" he asked. "Then you won't need to drive us around while I look for work."

Dean gave him a small smile. Yeah, so he liked the guy and it didn't hurt one bit the guy was one hell of a looker. He wondered if the guy might be bi. Nah, his luck didn't run that way. Besides, the guy would be gone in a couple days. He'd enjoy the eye-candy while he could, and most definitely enjoy the massages. Getting back into physical therapy was something he had needed to do and this kinda wiped out excuses for not doing it, too.

"Yeah, take the Galaxie. Lots of leg room and built like a tank." Seeing Sam's somewhat blank look he added, "It's the gunmetal blue four-door Ford. Ford keys hanging on the key rack by the door. She's a good car, but you do need to let her warm up a little. About five minutes before you're ready to leave, go start her up and turn on the defroster full blast. It'll be pretty easy to get the ice off the front. The rear window, you gotta just use muscle. Ice scraper is in the front seat. Take one of the winter coats in the closet to wear. I think the old army looking coat will probably fit you best. Always a little long in the sleeves for me." He looked at the small girl. "I think I got something that'll work for you. I'll dig it out after breakfast." Turning his attention back to Sam he asked, "So what is the 'right place' to make money?"

"It depends on the town," Sam answered, automatically passing another bacon to Emily. "I usually hit the hair salons, see if any of them are willing to let me take up space."  
"And me," Emily piped in. "I like hair salons best. Other places are boring."

Sam gave a sheepish grin. "Yeah. She didn't like sitting in the car at the truck stop but I couldn't have her walking around there. Sometimes convalescent homes will give me a day, you know, it depends. Half the battle is talking someone into letting me set up my stuff. Worst comes to worst, I might have something I can sell."

Dean nodded. "We've got an old folks home that might be interested, and there is a hair salon that keeps pretty busy. Down the road about a half mile is a day care. Lacey usually just takes care of preschool, but around the holidays with school being out, she'll take in older kids. She owes me a favor, if Emily would like to go. Pick up is probably around 5 pm. I can go get her if you're still working. You got a cell phone?"

"Other kids?" Emily's eyes went big. "Daddy, it'll be like in--"

"We'll see, I'll think about it," Sam said, ignoring her bouncing 'please, please please.' "Finish your breakfast." He looked back at Dean. "No, no phone." He'd tossed it when he'd figured out Dex had tracking software installed in it. "So, are you a pillar of the community? I could toss around the name Dean Singer and that might get me somewhere fast?" He grinned, pretty sure Dean kept out of the community, even though he seemed to know everyone. 

"I got loaner phones for customers. Just those pay as you go cheap-ass things. I have the numbers programmed into my phone and I can just hit speed dial and that way I don't trash up my phone with a lot of numbers I'm too lazy to erase. I can loan you one if you want." Dean laughed at the idea of him being a pillar of the community. "I wouldn't exactly call me anything close to a pillar of the community. And saying Dean Singer will only get you blank looks. The name's Winchester. Bobby Singer, he willed this place to me and I just couldn't...I couldn't change the name, y'know?" He was silent a moment, thinking briefly of Bobby. "As far as slinging my name around, you mention my name to a pretty girl and you might get slapped or you might get all the help you want," he said chuckling. "I know a doctor at the old folks place, work on his muscle car, and I know one of the girls at the hair salon. She's pretty tight with the owner. I can call 'em both and you can talk to them, see if they can help you out." 

Dean pushed his almost empty plate away, slipped a piece of bacon on it along with the little bit of egg and toast left on it, and whistled. Rumsfeld bounded in and gave a deep throated 'whuff.' Dean held the plate and let Rumsfeld lick it clean. "Never any dried food left on plates around here," he said, not caring if it grossed the two out or not. It was tradition ever since he got the place and inherited the dog. "I need to let him out. You think about what you wanna do."

Getting to his feet, Dean carried his dirty plate, silverware and coffee mug out to the kitchen then opened the back door for the dog. Rumsfeld would probably stay out until late afternoon unless the wind picked up and it just got too cold.

Father and daughter were left staring at each other. Before Emily could say anything out loud, Sam whispered, "Yeah, I saw. Don't worry, Mr. Dean washes the plates two or three times, and I'm going to do the same. Okay?"

"Okay. I'm going to give Rumsfeld the rest of my milk," she said, taking the cup and starting to slide off the phone book.

"Ah... no," Sam grabbed the cup before she could get it off the table.

"Why? You can wash it three times." Before Sam could answer, she tugged on his sleeve. "Can I go see the kids?"

"I don't know," Sam got up and started clearing the table. "I don't know this Miss Lacey. I'll get you back into school soon, I promise."

"Please, please, please," she said, following him back and forth. 

"Go inside and color." Sam felt her eyes on him even as she started to obey. "We'll check the place out, okay? But if I don't like it, you're not arguing with me."

She nodded and disappeared into the living room and went back to coloring on the coffee table in front of the fire. 

* * *

Forty five minutes later, Sam had cleaned up, gone through the phone book and gotten a list of places together. Dean had made calls to his contacts so that at least they were prepared to talk to Sam. Sam had Emily dressed in warmer clothing, and then Dean brought out a woman's wool cape. Luckily it was a short one. Sam put it over Em's head, then grinned when it reached her ankles. She looked like she was playing dress up, but it was better than facing the freezing cold. There was an old broach on the cape, and he used it to secure it at her neck. "Don't you look like Little Red Riding Hood, only in black."

"Daddy!"

He chuckled. "I'll tell you the story of Little Black Riding Hood tonight, come on," he grabbed the spare phone that Dean had given him and decided to take the phone book with him too. Outside, Dean was already working on one of the cars in front of the house, and he'd started the Galaxie up for Sam. That surprised Sam, especially after Dean had barked out his orders about warming the car up and scraping the ice off the window. Now it was all done for him. 

"We're ah, we're going. I'll let you know if you should get Emily from Miss Lacey's." He walked to the car and helped Emily inside, watched her buckle up and closed the door. He got his equipment from the trunk of the Impala and put it into the back of the Galaxie. "Thanks man," he said, nodding at Dean as he walked around to the driver's side, giving him a warm smile.

"No problem. Good luck," Dean said giving Sam a wave.

* * *

After Sam stopped at "Miss Lacey's Childcare" and deciding it was okay for Em to stay there, he hit the hair salon first and after speaking with Dean's friend, was told to come back later when the owner would be in. Agreeing, he went to several other hair salons, with only one of them reluctantly agreeing to think about letting him see if he could snag any of their clients. The general feeling was that money was a little tight around Christmas so he might not get very far, but Sam was more positive about it. His experience had been that low rates attracted people to give him a try, and he had little tricks up his sleeve too, like giving a five minute free trial. 

He met the physician at the retirement home but wasn't surprised that the man wanted to see his credentials before he could give him the nod. Sam told him if he stuck around town for a few more days, he might come back, but it was something he couldn't do. Not only didn't he want his name out there, but he wasn't licensed as a physical therapist in North Dakota.

When he went back to the first salon, he chatted with the owner, discussed what he'd charge and her cut of the money. He did everything he could to convince her he wouldn't disrupt the clients, that he'd give people a three to five minute massage right after they had their hair washed, and then they could decide if they wanted more after they got their hair done, or when they needed to kill time while waiting between services. If you asked him, the free half hour massage he gave the owner was what clinched the deal.

He managed to get a few clients, and there were promises that they'd come back and spread the word. Unfortunately, the place was going to close early, though the owner hadn't made the call as to when yet. Since he had a little cash now, he thought he'd stop at the grocery on the way to Dean's, after he was done. It wasn't fair to expect the man to not only shelter them but also to feed them.  
* * *

Dean pulled out his ringing cell phone. "Yeah? Oh, hey Lacey, the girl okay?"

"She's been wonderful and polite, if a bit shy around the other kids. I could use ten more like her." The older woman laughed. "We have a pretty wicked storm rolling in in a few hours and I'm asking everyone to get their kids as soon as possible. She told me her dad's working to make money to fix their car and said I should call you."

"Yeah. I'll come get her. I'm gonna swing by the grocery store first. You got anything you need?"

"Oh, that would be great. The standard storm perishables. Some of the kids might be staying the night if the parents can't get here."

"Check. Extra cans of ravioli," Dean said, heading out to his tow truck. If the storm blew in early, the truck could get him through anything. "What time is the storm due?"

"Six, but it's going to start getting bad about five-thirty."

Dean looked at his watch. It was two forty five. "I'll be there in under an hour."

"See you then," she said.

Dean started up the truck to let it warm up as he called Sam, waiting for him to pick up.

"Hi Dean, is everything alright?" Sam asked, seeing Dean's name flash on the phone.

"We got another storm rolling through this evening. I'm hitting the grocery, and Lacey's asking the parents to come get the kids ASAP. I thought I'd grab Emily on the way home if you're cool with that, then you can keep working another hour or two but you need to be on the road no later than about 5:00 p.m. to get back to my place before the storm hits. Sound like a plan?" 

"Yeah, sure. Actually, they're closing early here too and I was going to stop at the grocery myself. You don't have you... you know?" 

"Some of the parents probably won't get there before the storm, so I'm picking up stuff for Lacey too. Don't worry about it, I got it covered. You stay until they close or five o'clock, which ever hits first."

"Alright. Can you pick up some spaghetti or any kind of pasta, a couple tomatoes, a little broccoli," he said with a little hesitation, "and milk. Or, you, know... I can."

"Broccoli? Seriously? Your kid eats broccoli?" Dean asked, shaking his head. "Yeah, no problem."

Releasing his breath, Sam gave a laugh. "Yeah, she's a smart kid. She knows vegetables are good for you. Okay, I'll see you in a couple hours. If she asks too many questions or is underfoot, just tell her I said she needs to do a couple pages of her work book. She'll know, and she can watch TV, that'll keep her busy. Oh, and remind her not to touch. She won't, but a reminder won't hurt." He was seriously considering leaving early now.

"So long as she doesn't try to get me to eat 'em," Dean said. "Don't sweat it. I think I can manage keeping a kid out of trouble for two hours." 

"Alright." 

* * *

After Dean got home with the groceries and Emily, he got the groceries put away and gave the girl some warm milk and cookies while he got a couple of the cars towed into the garage bays so he could work on them in warmth. He got Rumsfeld inside and fed him, then browned the stew meat and tossed in potatoes, carrots, onions, beef broth and some spices and set it to cooking.

"Kiddo, I'm going out to work on your dad's car. You can watch TV and color or do your workbook thing. No touching anything else. If you need anything, you come get me." 

"Okay," she said, but before he reached the door, she added. "Why did the car break?"

"Things get old and worn out. They break," Dean said. "Just happens." 

"Oh. What got old and broked?" She walked toward him. "How are you going to fix it? Daddy couldn't fix it, he tried."

"It's pretty complicated. You can come watch if you want. You can help remind me to come in and stir the stew. But no running around the garage. It's got a lot of things that could hurt you." Honestly Dean would rather have the kid where he could keep an eye on her and sort of hoped she'd come. Bored kids were dangerous kids, even if she had been well behaved. 

Nodding, she skipped to the door, waited then skipped around him in circles as he walked. When she got some snow in her shoe, she made a face but it didn't slow her down.

Dean watched the bundle of energy running around him and laughed when he saw the face she made - just like her dad. He walked into the garage and turned on the light, then started the propane heater to warm the garage, but kept it a safe distance from the Impala.  
After opening the hood, he pulled up a stool and set her on it so she could see into the engine. He attached a trouble light to the hood and shone it into the engine compartment. This was the first chance he had to do more than a cursory look over the engine. If this car was the only thing between Sam and Emily, it wasn't leaving his place until he was certain it wouldn't break down on them.

"So where are you and your dad from? Is your dad divorced?" Dean asked as he began to go over every inch of the engine. He hadn't seen a ring on Sam's finger. 

She shook her head no, and looked down into the engine, her hair spilling over her face. "I liked Vermont," she offered. "It's a happy place. Like here. There's kids there too. What's that?" She pointed where the light was shining. 

"That's the carburetor. It's kind of like the heart of the car. You know, I was four when my mom died. After that, Dad and I, we were always on the road. Never stayed in any one place too long. I always liked California. You been to California?" Dean pulled out the spark plug wires, popped off the distributor cap, pulled out the rotor and made a face at the gunk in the carburetor. How had this car even been running? The engine hadn't been taken care of and it wouldn't be long before it gave up the ghost. The carburetor was going to have to be rebuilt and he sighed. 

"Uh uh," she shook her head and mirrored the face he made. "That's where we're going. There's a beach there. And Disneyland. And... I forget," she said staring up at him. "You're making a frowny face. Are you mad?" Her knee started to nervously bounce up and down.

"No, I'm not mad. Just the engine needs a lot of work, especially if you're making that long of a drive. You got family out there?" Dean stood up, pulled a wrench out of the tool box, and laying on the cement floor, reached under the car with a pan and opened the oil plug to drain out the oil.

"Uh huh. Just daddy!" she proclaimed, happy that he wasn't angry with her. She shifted and looked down. "It'll be just like Vermont, but without...."

Dean studied her a moment. "Without the person who hurt your dad?" Dean asked quietly as he stood back up and wiped his oil soaked hand clean. "Who hurt your dad, Emily?" 

There was a long silence. She squirmed a little and glanced at the door, then whispered. "My papa. He hurts Daddy. But not in Vermont, not before he catched us. That's why you _have to_ fix the car." 

Dean tried to keep his features schooled so the kid didn't think he was mad at her. "Did your...did your papa and daddy live together? Did your mommy live with you too?" 

"Mommy?" She shook her head. "Not everybody has a mommy. I have a daddy and a papa but...." Her knee started to bounce again. "Daddy said papa was nice before, before he went and made a deal with a... a demon. I don't remember that. His eyes get scary and--aren't you going to fix the car?" 

Dean had frozen when the girl said 'demon.' Eyes got scary...yeah, he bet they did. If Sam knew about the demon deal, then he'd know what the deal was for. Maybe knew if 'papa' was possessed. ...No mom. Sam was gay. His mind raced. If there was a demon involved, these two needed to wear hex bags immediately. He finally gave the child an easy smile. "You bet I am. It'll be like new when I'm done with it."

He decided then and there that he was yanking the engine and doing a full rebuild. Hopefully the tranny was good but he wouldn't know that until he got the engine pulled apart, put back together and running. He could check the transmission pan and make certain there weren't any metal shavings in it. He'd come back out and get started on it all in a few. Hopefully Jimmy hadn't shut down the auto parts place yet. He'd call in the order for all the gaskets and shit he'd need and see if they could do a rush job on the heads once he got the engine torn down. Odds were good the cylinders would need to be rounded out too and he would probably need all new pistons for it. "We better go in and stir the stew. And I think you've been sitting out in this cold long enough. Your dad'll be upset if you catch a cold."

After turning off the propane heater and the lights, he headed back for the house. He'd get the Colt out and get it cleaned up and ready then double check the salt at all the doors and windows. After he got a hex bag on the girl. That was the first priority.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam parked the car exactly where it had been parked in the morning and noticed the Impala and one of the other cars was no longer outside. He glanced at the garage doors as he got his messenger bag out of the trunk, he'd need his oils later, when he gave Dean his massage. Somehow, everyone had seemed to know he was staying here and apparently Dean's sweet tooth was legendary. Feeling like he majorly owed the guy, he shelled out a little money and picked up an apple pie from the small bakery across the street from the salon, so he got that out of the car as well.  
Climbing the porch steps, he knocked then pushed the door open.

"Daddy!" Emily dropped the crayons and ran to him, wrapping her arms around his leg as he continued to walk to the table and put down the pie. "There's my girl," he said, lifting her up easily and accepting a hug as he looked for Dean. "Were you good for Mr. Dean?"

"Uh huh. He even gave me this!" She held up the leather pouch she had around her neck. "Said it would help keep me safe. And I helped him fix the car."

"You did? You didn't talk his ear off did you?" Sam asked fingering the pouch. It looked like something he'd seen made by Native Americans for luck or something. Seemed harmless enough. 

"No."

"Are you sure?" he asked, his tone rising in a mock threat.

"No, no I didn't..."

"Cause you know I'm going to have to throw you up in the air if you did...."

"I didn't, I didn't," she squealed with laughter as Sam tossed her up in the air and caught her and tossed her again just as Dean walked in. "Why don't we ask him, hmm? Mr. Dean, did Em talk your ear off?"

"Nooo...." She giggled as Sam threatened to throw her up.

"No, she didn't. She was a very good girl. I need to get the bread in the oven. Why don't you join me in the kitchen?" Dean said, giving Emily a smile and a wink and then heading for the kitchen.

"You cooked? Smells good," he said, putting Emily down and frowning at Dean's quick exit from the room. "Did you do a page of your wor--"

She scampered to the coffee table and picked up a crayon. 

Giving a low laugh, Sam got the pie and went into the kitchen. "So the car's really fixed?" he asked, setting it down on a counter and standing across from Dean who was leaning against the other counter. Feeling the intensity of those jade green eyes and seeing the way Dean's jaw was set, his expression hard, Sam side stepped so he wasn't directly across from Dean anymore. "What happened? Something wrong?" he asked, cocking his head and watching Dean closely.

"The car...no, Emily just sat out there with me, saw me looking it over and take some things off of it," Dean said. He looked up at the ceiling a moment, trying hard to get his temper under control. Sam had no part in the demon deal, at least he damned well better not have. He'd gotten a guy out of a deal once, but he didn't figure he could pull that off again, at least not the same way. He could tell Sam was nervous, maybe even scared of him now. He'd had Emily drink some water when they got back in, holy water, not they she knew what it was, and had her get the silver ladle out of the drawer for the stew. That there was no reaction to either eased his mind only a little. There were enough devils’ traps and protective sigils around that nothing should be able to get in, but a dad and his daughter in trouble? Dean invited them in without even checking to make sure they were human. Rumsfeld seemed to like them well enough, but again, who knew. He just had to be absolutely certain. Hell, he hadn't even bothered to get the guy's last name and look into him. He was getting fucking soft.

Sam's mind went into over-drive trying to figure out the reason for the sudden tension. What had happened between their telephone call and now? If Dean wasn't irritated by having to watch Emily, and she'd been good, then what could it be? Course he knew only too well there didn't always have to be a reason for someone's mood swings. 

"Stir the stew for me would you?" Dean said, picking up the loaf of bread sitting on the counter and opening up the package. 

_"The meatloaf was really good. Get the boys some more, would you?" Dex asked softly, brushing past Sam in the kitchen and reaching for the door of the fridge._

_"Sure." Sam turned his back and pulled the pan out of the oven, bringing it to the stove top so he could slice up the rest of the meatloaf. He was just about to get the knife when Dex's hand grabbed hold of the back of his head and slammed his face against the tile wall. "What the--"_

_"Where's the beer? Where's the fucking beer? One thing, can't get just one fucking thing right," Dex shouted enraged, reaching for him again._

_Emily came into the doorway, hugging the frame and looking up at them._

_"Emily, go to your room," Sam said, wiping the blood off his face, though he felt more dripping from his nose. "It'll be fine, I'll bring... go," he bent down and gave her a little push._

Dean saw Sam's hesitation, and tilted his head a little watching him. When Sam finally reached for the ladle, he gave a nod, "Thanks," he said as he turned and opened the oven and put the bread inside, then turned on the oven. Next, he turned to the coffee machine and got out two mugs and poured them each some coffee. He'd made the entire damned carafe with holy water. He held the mug out to Sam and took a sip of his own. 

"Here, see what you think. I put some of that fancy expensive coffee in it that I save for guests." He picked up the small bag he had sitting next to the coffee maker. "French roast chocolate mocha," he read, showing it to Sam. 

The weight of Dean's gaze had Sam even more nervous. It was like Dean expected something from him, and he had no idea what it might be. His stomach knotted, even as he told himself he was imagining things. Slowly, he brought the mug to his mouth.  
After Sam sampled the coffee, Dean breathed a small sigh of relief and relaxed some. Silver and holy water would give away a good eighty percent of the nasties out there. Dean stared down into his own mug. "I know you're on the run from your boyfriend." He looked up at Sam and waited to see what the man had to say about it.

Sam's head jerked up. He set his mug down. "You questioned Emily..." he licked his lips. She wouldn't have just told him, he knew that. 

"We talked. I didn't grill her," Dean said. "Does it look like I gave her the third degree and upset her?"

Sam didn't answer. He'd thought he had everything under control. That maybe they'd stay here a few more days, get enough money together, things had been working out. "Alright, you don't want to get in the middle of this, I know the drill, and I don't blame you. I wouldn't have involved you if--" he ran his hand though his hair, trying to push back the walls that were falling down on him again. It was hard to breathe, to think, but there was a little girl in the next room, and for her, he would always find a way. Always.

"I'll have us packed in a few minutes. If you could drop us of at...or let me borrow the car until tomorrow I, ah...I'll leave all my stuff here, not going anywhere without it." He was scrambling for ways to convince Dean to let him borrow the car so they'd have shelter in case he didn't find a cheap motel. The money from today would cover that, then he could see if that pastor did have anywhere for them to stay so he could collect his earnings. He took a backwards step toward the door, searching Dean's face and hoping for just one more drop of luck, hoping he'd say yes to the car.

"Whoa, slow down there," Dean said. "I just don't want to be blindsided, but I'm _not_ kicking you out. Just take a deep breath Kimosabe and calm down. A pissed off boyfriend doesn’t scare me, Sam."

"It should." Sam looked down and took a deep breath. They had a place to stay, at least for the night. "Okay I...I guess I could have told you, but I thought it would be the one night and then we'd be out of your hair. I think I can get the money together in a couple days, there seemed to be interest at the salon."  
Dean gave a shake of his head. "It takes a helluva lot to scare me and I doubt your ex-boyfriend even comes close. As for the money, don't sweat it. That engine is a wreck. It probably won't get you to California with the shape it's in. Hell, I doubt it'll get you further than a couple more states before giving up the ghost and I can tell you right now, you won't make it over the mountains without blowing the engine. I'll take care of the cost of fixing it." He paused. "I don't work miracles and don't have any little elves to help me, so it's gonna take some time. You and Emily, you're welcome to stay. I gotta know though...Emily said your boyfriend made a deal with a demon. I want the details, even if they sound crazy as hell." 

"The whole engine...." That was like thousands of dollars they were talking about, now. The ground was cut out from under his feet. Again. Sam went to the small table, dropping down into the chair and fighting his goddamned tears. "I must be cursed. It's always one step forward, two back." Rubbing the back of his neck, he forced himself not to panic, to think things through. "Guess I lied to her about Christmas on a beach." He hated not coming through for Em, she'd seen a lot of broken promises from Dex so Sam always tried to keep his. 

He blinked a few times, looking away from Dean. "We can't impose on you for that long, and the longer we're here, the more chance he'll find us." It had been a good twenty four hours. There had been some nerve wracking moments, but for the most part, he'd felt absolutely safe here. If he hadn't, there was no way he'd have let a stranger pick up his daughter or watch her. He'd even liked how normal it felt, to cook, to share a meal, to be able to talk across a table. To be able to help and be helped. "A couple more days, maybe a week." He looked at Dean. "I'll get enough together for bus tickets and motels. Then if I can't get you the money for an engine, car's yours. You seemed to like it," he said, having seen Dean run his hand along the car as he passed it in the morning. "My dad used to get that same look in his eyes about the car. Course he thought it was magic." He gave a low chuckle. "He said it's what brought him and mom together." Dex had hated the car and even though there had been a lot of place on their... on Dex's property...he'd constantly threatened to get rid of it.  
"So what do you say. Does that seem fair?" Sam asked. 

"You're not an imposition," Dean said firmly, sitting down across from him. "Yeah, been a little weird having a kid here. Hunters pass through occasionally and crash here but otherwise," he shrugged, "it's pretty much just me and the dog. Been kinda nice having you here," Dean admitted, "and you don't worry about him finding you. Even if he does, he's not touching you or taking you any place you don't want to go. I promise you that."

He reached across the table and took Sam's hand. This was getting dangerously chick-flick, but Sam looked so damned defeated and scared. "You can't keep running. That's no life for you, that's no life for her. You have to make a stand. You make it here and I'll have your back. And you need to check your hearing. I told you, I'll fix the engine and it's not gonna cost you a dime. I'm also gonna teach you how to protect yourself."

Sam's gaze dropped down to the hand over his. It didn't add up. Dean, holding his hand, it just didn't, but the things he said, Dean just didn't understand. He spun a damned good dream though, a damned good one. When he looked back up, he searched Dean's eyes. The guy made him want to trust even when Sam knew he shouldn't. If Dean knew the truth, he'd change his tune. He wouldn't look at him like he wanted to help or like he was worth helping, he'd look at him like he was a criminal. Sam didn't think he could take that. 

Dean pushed himself to his feet and went over to the oven. He pulled the crusty bread out. "I still want the details on the demon deal. I gotta know what we're up against." Stirring the stew he said gently, "I'm not the enemy. I can help. I swear, if you just talk to me and give me a chance, I can help. Just tell me the truth, no matter how crazy it might sound, that's all I'm asking."

"What demon deal?" Sam decided not to agree or disagree with Dean's plan. He'd take it a day at time, think on it. The smartest thing was probably to take a bus, like he'd suggested. But that wouldn't be for a week anyway, and he could think on it more. He got up, "I'll set the table."

"Emily said you told her that her papa used to be nice, but that was before he made a deal with a demon, and his eyes get all wild sometimes." Dean turned and pulled a big bowl out of the cabinet, wincing when he turned back around. His leg was beginning to ache again.

"You should sit down. I'll take care of that," Sam said, nodding at the bowl. The weight of Dean's gaze was almost unbearable, like he was expecting something from him. It was the second time he'd mentioned 'demon'. "You mean a...a demon-demon? Like in your books?" He started talking slower as the realization of what Dean was saying hit him. "You said you're not some devil worshiping weirdo, that it's just an interest." Now what had he gotten them into? He should be afraid, but even with crazy talking or reading or whatever, this man just made him want to trust. 

"Your daughter's the one who said it. I'm guessing she only repeated something you told her," Dean said evenly. "So you tell me. What did _you_ mean when you told her that?" Dean began ladling the stew into the bowl as he waited for an answer.

"You _are_ serious." Sam ran his hand over his face. "I don't know, I probably said something like he made a deal with the devil. I don't think I said demon," he spread his hands. "He drinks, he takes drugs, and then he...." Not putting the obvious to words, he nodded and spread his hands. "He wasn't always like that." He went to the counter and drank some more of his now cooling coffee, then reached into the cabinet and started getting bowls for the table. "Smells good."

Dean felt the big knot of tension in his chest release and closed his eyes. _Thank God it's not a real demon._ "You don't really want an answer as to whether or not I believe in demons. All I can tell you is that I'm not a nutcase and I'm not gonna start preaching to you or your daughter about demons and angels and all that crap." Turning, he looked at Sam. "I'll get the bread cut up and put into a bowl. You mind if I ask you something?" 

"Why didn't I fight back? Why didn't I call the police?" He swallowed. "It's complicated. And yeah, I mind," Sam said, leaving the kitchen to go set the table.

Emily skipped from the living room to the dining room. "I finished. And it's snowing outside. Can we make snow angels. Are you sad?" she asked suddenly, looking up at Sam's face.  
"What, no. Why would I be sad?"

"You don't have your smiley face." She waited until he did, then looked into the kitchen and checked Dean's forehead.  
Dean focused on cutting up the bread. "I was gonna ask you what your last name is," he called into the dining room. He tossed the bread into a bowl and covered it with a towel, feeling himself beginning to limp as he carried it and the butter into the next room and set them on table. 

In the time that Sam hesitated, Emily answered for him. "Smith."

That was Dex's last name, and hers, but Sam didn't correct her. Using Dean's trick, he put the thick phonebook down on the chair, then put his hand on Dean's shoulder as the guy made to go back into the kitchen. "Let me. Please," he said, meeting Dean's gaze.

"Well, it's not exactly original, but okay, Mr. and Miss Smith." When Sam asked Dean to basically stay put, Dean hesitated, then gave a nod. He settled into the chair, making a bit of a face and left his leg stretched out. "Sam, could you maybe bring me that little stool under the table in there? It's like a foot high. I'd really appreciate it."

"Sure thing." Sam saw it under the kitchen table, grabbed it and quickly returned. Putting it down next to Dean, he bent down and gently lifted Dean's bad leg and set it on the stool. This time, he wasn't at all nervous, but when he stood, he noticed Emily looked tense. "I'm smiling, see? It's fine." He nodded at her. "Milk for you. Dean, what shall I get you to drink?" 

"A beer. Help yourself to one if you'd like. And thanks."

Sam nodded and started to leave when Emily slipped off her chair and came to him, wrapping her arms around one of his legs and looking up at him. "What? It's alright sweetheart, I promise." When she didn't let go, he picked her up and went into the kitchen. 

"He's going to get red eyes and then--"  
"No, no he's not. Mr. Dean is--" Sam sighed. "He's not like that. Not everyone is. Was he crabby this morning?"

"He looked crabby."

"He did?" Sam laughed. He'd thought Dean looked damned sexy.

"But he wasn't," she agreed. 

"Have you seen him shout or get mad?"

"He had frownies."

"I get frownies," Sam said, giving her a frowny face as he got the milk and poured. "You get frownies."

"I don't," she protested. 

He gave her a look and she giggled, then watched as he took out two brown bottles from the fridge. 

"I'm going to have one too," he said. She'd seen him have drinks and he hoped it would ease her fears.

"Okay."

"Come on," he said, holding the two bottles by the neck and her milk with the other hand. 

Sam threw Dean an apologetic look, and set the drinks down, then turned to help Em but she'd already climbed onto the phone book. "Well, we know Dean can take cars apart, let's see if he can cook. My nose says 'yes.'" He grabbed the ladle and served some of the stew to Dean. 

"Sam, ladies first," Dean said when Sam started to put the bowl down in front of him. He gave the little girl a smile. "If I get cranky from drinking, you can just kick me in my bad leg, okay? But I'm only gonna have a couple beers, I promise. Or you can tickle me. I'm very ticklish." Dean wasn't really sure what else to say to put the girl at ease. He wasn't all that used to kids. Normally the only kids he dealt with were freaked out kids he saved from a supernatural beast of some sort. Those kids he was usually able to hand off pretty fast.

After what Sam said about his ex, really it was no wonder the kid freaked. He needed to find out the ex-boyfriend's name so he could have the sheriff keep an eye out for the guy. Background check on him was definitely in order too. Dean buttered up a piece of bread and put it down on the small plate by Emily's bowl, then did the same for Sam. Two could play the game of 'who serves who'. "Okay, so tell me, how's my stew? Is it edible or do we need to order a pizza?" Dean asked. "And sorry, no broccoli in it." 

Both Emily and Sam stared at Dean.

Sam came to his senses first. "Thanks," he said, his lips quirking up at the corners. He hadn't been about to butter Dean's bread, but he got Dean's point. "Emily's a great taster. So... drumroll," he drummed two fingers on the table. "And the verdict?"

As she tasted the stew, Sam filled two more bowls and passed one to Dean, pulling one close for himself. "Too many snails in there? Or is it missing spider powder? I could get some from the kitchen... or, rat eyes?"

Laughing, she was already on her second spoonful, and shaking her head 'no.'

"Huh. I think you passed the test." Sam picked up the bread and started to eat, nodding, "I concur. It's good stuff." 

"Course. I only use fresh spiders. Not that spider powder stuff," Dean said with mock seriousness but he was glad the two liked it. He'd backed off on the black pepper since he wasn't sure the girl would like anything with that much bite. He just added extra pepper to his own bowl and then began eating. Yeah, definitely not too bad. 

Dean was going to ask Sam how the day went but realized the girl could probably use the extra attention. She was probably used to being ignored by her papa and if she wasn't, it was probably a bad sort of attention. "So Emily, did you like Lacey's place? Did you have fun or meet any nice kids?"

"Uh huh. And they liked the cape," her eyes went to Sam. "You're going to tell Little Black Riding Hood, right?"  
"Course," Sam said gravely. "Starring you. And a big bad wolf named Mr. Dean." He grinned. 

"And you'll be grandma! And Mr. Dean will eat you!"

"Ah...." Sam made a face and instead of answering, decided to stuff his face.

Dean almost snorted beer out his nose. "Yeah, I could do that," he murmured, giving Sam a covert look. Hearing the wind whipping up outside, he cursed softly and pushing himself to his feet, limped to the back door. "Rummy, come on, get your butt in here."

Leaning on the door he waited and finally the big dog bounded inside the house. After shaking off the snow, he woofed and trotted over to his empty food bowl and waited patiently. Dean opened the pantry and pulled out the pitcher half-filled with dog food and dumped it all into his bowl. "Stay in the kitchen until you dry off, Rummy," Dean said and limped back to the dining room table. "Sorry, didn't want him out in that. With that wind, the wind chill factor is gonna be wicked cold. Okay Sammy, let's hear the tale of Little Black Riding Hood." He looked at Sam expectantly, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Why do I feel trapped?" Sam asked. It was the second time Dean had called him Sammy, and he decided he didn't mind.  
"Or you could come to bed with us and Daddy can tell us the story--"

Clearing his throat, Sam jumped in. "I'll tell it now, good idea, Dean." 

Dean had to smother his laughter. "Well, why don't you wait until after dinner. Might be a good bedtime story and I can listen from the doorway. Gotta make sure he doesn't make the big bad wolf too bad. Big, being big is fine." He cast Sam an amused look.

"Wow, your cooking is not the _only_ surprise," Sam responded, not a hundred percent sure about all the teasing, whether it was flirting or what. The fluttering in his belly made him feel young, like the guy he used to be so long ago, it seemed. "How about after dinner we'll take our dessert in the living room and I'll tell it then."

That having been settled, the rest of their dinner was remarkable. Remarkable because it felt so normal, so relaxed. Sam noticed that Emily didn't blink when either of them had their beers and didn't seem at all worried about anything. They talked and laughed and Sam knew, if he were standing outside the window of the house, looking in, he'd be jealous of what looked like a happy little family.  
After dinner, he practically ordered Dean not to do anything but sit on the couch and rest his leg. He brought Dean another beer and might have heard a little grumbling about watching cartoons, but that was it as Sam cleared the table and washed up. He gave Rumsfeld the left over stew from their plates, putting it into the dog's bowl.

When he was all done, he came out and passed the remote to Dean and took Emily inside for her bath and to get changed into her pajamas. A half hour later, she was back on the sofa with a blanket, Dean had his electric blanket and Sam got the fire going. The dog found a place near the fire and licked Sam's hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm irresistible," Sam said. He had pie for everyone, and hot chocolate, even for Dean, whether the man would drink it or not, and then he told his story.

Of course he never got through his tall tale alone. Emily and Dean kept interrupting with ideas on what 'their characters' did, and they seemed to gang up against 'Grandma Sam.' By the time the story was over, Sam's stomach hurt. "I haven't laughed like this since...forever," he said to Dean, thanking him silently with his eyes. "Okay Ems, bed time! Say g'nite." He was surprised when Emily went to give Dean a hug and Dean's slightly awkward but heartfelt hug had him snickering.

*

Sam returned after tucking Emily into bed. "You want something stronger than hot chocolate?" He was smiling because he'd bet Dean hadn't had hot chocolate in years since the box in the kitchen had been purchased today. "Did you even have any of it?" He moved closer to take a look at Dean's mug.  
"I had some!" Dean said defensively. "Beer and pie, not such a good combo. Coffee and pie, yeah. That was a damned good pie you bought. Sit down," Dean said and rearranged himself, propping his leg up on the coffee table. "When's the last time someone took care of you instead of you doing everything?"

"That's a strange question." He went ahead and dropped down on the sofa next to Dean. "When's the last time anyone took care of you?" Sam asked, turning the question around on Dean.

"I had a whole year or so of everyone taking care of me. Helping me go to the bathroom, helping me bathe...." He made a face. He hesitated then asked, "Why don't you lay down, put your head in my lap, and just take a breather? Watch the movie with me."

"Lay on your--" Sam's mouth went dry. He searched Dean's face, looking for any hint that it had been a joke. "Dean, are you flirting with me? I, ah...you know, I don't really match up with the pin-ups you had in your room but, I have to ask, because getting your wires crossed on something like this it's--it can lead to trouble. Making a mistake and hitting on a straight guy usually ends up with getting punched." He didn't need any more trouble, and flirting back might get him into hot water if he was misreading Dean. "No offense," he added, looking down. 

"I am totally, completely, _shamelessly_ , flirting with you. Yes. As far as the pin-ups, guy pin-ups, they just never did it for me." Dean reached out and lightly caressed Sam's cheek. "I ride the fence. Mostly, I go out with girls, yeah, but I've gone out with my share of guys. If you're not interested, that's cool. But I'd still like--I'd like to have you lay your head on my lap and just relax. We can both pretend. It's been a good evening and that just seems like, I dunno, a nice way to end it. I'm not a warm and fuzzy guy. I know that, but I'm...enjoying the company. A lot."

As he absorbed what Dean said, he looked up, pressing his cheek against Dean's hand. "Honestly? I think you're more 'hot' than 'warm', and who the hell wants fuzzy?" He smiled. "It's been a great evening and I've enjoyed every minute. And if my life were different...." He gave a chuckle then moved on the couch and laid down, putting his head on Dean's lap, one hand hooked over his thigh. "But I'm gonna have to go with _pretend_. If it's real, then letting it go will be too hard. What are we watching?" 

"Classic Dracula," Dean said, unable to resist playing with Sam's hair. He studied Sam's profile and admired the handsome man's face. "Let's not...let's not talk about goodbye any time soon. Let's just take it a step at a time. I want you to pretend you're not running. I want you to pretend that if you wanted to, you could stay here. I'm not saying you and me are, you know, right for anything other than a little getting together, but I wouldn't mind exploring it a little and finding out." He let his hand wander down Sam's arm, gently massaging it then began rubbing his back. The man had more knots in his back than Dean had.

"I'm good at that. Pretending," Sam said, making a soft sound as Dean stroked his hair and back. He stared at the TV for a while, not really watching, but concentrating on how nice it felt to be the one who was touched for a change and how safe he felt in the hands of a man he didn't really know. A man who had a house full of weapons and thought demons were real and was a tough guy. His eyes started to drift closed. "It's Weston. Sam Weston, not Smith," he said softly, pressing his mouth against Dean's thigh over the blanket and letting out a sigh of contentment.

Dean smiled. He continued to gently rub Sam's back, enjoying the feel of just having somebody there with him, having a fire crackle in the fireplace, and a classic monster movie playing on the TV. He still had some beer left, albeit warm beer, but sipped on it occasionally. Sam's breathing had leveled out and he knew that Sam had fallen asleep. When the movie was over he turned off the TV and simply listened to Sam's breathing, the whistling of the wind and the soft sounds of the fire. Somewhere along the way his own eyes drifted close and his head fell forward, a slight smile on his lips as he joined Sam in sleep.

*

He was warm and safe and happy. Strong arms enveloped him, held him so tight he'd never fall again. A deep, sexy voice washed over him, told him he was smart, and capable, and desirable. That there were better places, that this was a better place, a place for him. His daughter brought him happiness, as did this man who wouldn't let him go, who treated him like he was someone, something precious. Sam's smile didn't waver, not even when he felt a sharp pain in the ribs.  
Slowly, he opened his eyes. He saw the dying embers of the fire and realized he'd fallen asleep on Dean's lap. The TV was off and the lights were still on, but low. He felt a weight on him and raised his head, then gave a quiet laugh. Emily was sleeping on him, it was her elbow in his ribs. She must have woken and come out and then joined them. 

Slowly, he sat up, Em's head now in his lap. "Dean, you awake?" he asked, shaking Dean's shoulder until he saw his eyes open. "We both fell asleep, and we have company." The fact that Emily had dared to join them told Sam a lot about how comfortable she must feel around Dean. Both of them couldn't be wrong, could they? "I'll take her to bed, and I can do your adjustment. Need help up the stairs?" He yawned, bending his elbow to take a look at the watch on his wrist.

"No, but I am now," Dean grumbled. He rubbed his eyes and looked down to see Sam's daughter curled up with them. He chuckled. "Guess we're lucky Rumsfeld didn't get jealous and join us too." Dean yawned. He wasn't really sure he even wanted to bother getting up. The couch was decently comfortable. Still, he probably ought to do the bed thing. "I probably don't but I'm not gonna know until I stand up," he said, yawning again. "What time is it?"

"Rumsfeld is sleeping across your feet," Sam pointed out. "It's ten till three." Lifting Emily, he got up, stepped over the dog, and made his way to their room. Damn, how had the hours just slipped by? He put Em in bed and kissed her forehead, then, stretching, went back to the living room. "Don't wanna get up, huh?" 

"Mmm, no." Dean's eyes were closed and he'd nudged the dog to get his feet up on the couch. "I'm thinking if I get up, I'll wake up and I don't really wanna do that." He rearranged himself so he was on his stomach and halfway tugged at the electric blanket now sort of tangled up around him. "If you'd just get me another blanket out of the hall closet, and a pillow, I'm crashing here. You can adjust me in the morning. Real morning, sun up sort of thing. Or you can just go to bed. Don't really need a blanket," Dean mumbled feeling sleep trying to drag him back down. "I'm good...."

"Okay." Sam brought the extra blanket, as well as a pillow from his room. Spreading the blanket over Dean, he gripped his shoulder lightly until Dean lifted up and he shoved the pillow under. "Night." He watched him for a long moment, a smile playing on his lips before he shut the lights and left. It hadn't been just a good night, it had been a great night. For all of them.

* **

Sam and Emily were in the kitchen bright and early. He tried to keep her quiet, rolling his eyes each time her whispers got louder and louder. "Come on Em, draw me a Christmas tree," he said in a low voice as he poured the pancake batter onto the frying pan. 

"I should go sing Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer to Mr. Dean, he'd like that."

"He'd love that," Sam agreed. " _After_ he wakes up."

"I could be like an alarm clock," she suggested.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Rudolph the red nosed reindeer, had a very shiny nose, and if--"

"Shshsh!" Sam put his finger across his lips. "Come on Em, just for an hour."

"You said he's not grumpy in the morning."

"I'll bet he's grumpy if we wake him," Sam countered. "Just grumpy Em, didn't say mean."

"We should test him," she declared.

"No!" 

Thrusting her lip out, she picked up her crayon.  
Shaking his head, Sam turned around and got butter and bacon out of the fridge.

Emily took the opportunity to slip out of the kitchen and walking on her tip toes, crossed the living room. She stood right over Dean, looking down at his face, her hair spilling down on him. She saw his mouth move and then his nose, and giggled. Leaning closer, she tickled him again with her hair, singing softly, "Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way...."

Dean batted at the whatever was tickling his nose, trying to brush it away. Distantly he heard some soft singing, child-like but pretty. He shifted and rolled some to get away from the annoying whatever, but it just came right back, and the singing grew a little louder. Dean groaned. It was a feather. Had to be a feather. His dad would do that shit to him sometimes but the child's song baffled him. 

"C'mon, Dad, stop it," he grumbled. 

He heard the sweet sounding giggle that definitely wasn't his father's. That's right, his father had been dead a couple years now. Some girl he'd slept with? Was that the annoying gnat? He'd mark her off his list unless there was some very good morning hot sex. But couldn't she have waited until a more decent hour?

Dean slowly opened his eyes to a face full of blond hair and bright eyes looking at him, a broad grin across the little girl's face as she kept singing jingle bells to him. 

"You. Are. A. Brat." Dean said. At her giggle Dean sat up suddenly, pulled her into his lap and tickling her. "Are you a ticklish brat, hmmm? Waking me up earns a tickling." 

Emily's ear piercing shriek had Sam dropping everything and running into the living room, only to see Emily laughing and kicking and trying to tickle Dean back. His heart was racing as he met Dean's eyes, then took a breath. "Sorry. She snuck out. Em?" There was a slight censure to his tone, but mostly he was trying to get his heart rate back under control.

"Help... Daddy help," she screamed, between gasps and laughter, and when Dean gave her a break, she looked up. "See?"

"See what," Sam asked hesitantly. "I'll get you a coffee."

"See you're wrong, he doesn't get waked up grumpy," she said in triumph, bouncing on Dean.

At Sam's huff, she turned to Dean. "He said if I woke you, you'd be a grump. But I knew you wouldn't, you let Daddy sleep on you, I saw!"

"Oh Christ... coffee, no sugar. And good morning... welcome to my life," Sam said, walking backwards to make a quick getaway. 

Dean laughed at the look of embarrassment on Sam's face. Yeah, he was definitely not thrilled at being woken up so early, but Emily was just too damned cute, like a puppy you just had to give in to. Dean poked her in the ribs. "I am too a grump. It turns me into a tickle monster or a pillow fighter."

Pulling the pillow out from under him, he lightly whumped Emily on top of the head. "Now, get off of me, brat monster. Mr. Dean has to use the bathroom. Go pounce your dad or play with Rumsfeld." 

Still laughing, she slid off his lap and out of reach but bounced around in excitement. When Dean walked to the stairs, she followed right behind him.  
"Emilyyyy," Sam called from the kitchen.

She made a face. "How does he know?" 

"It's a parent thing," Dean told her. He watched her scamper off to the kitchen and shook his head. "Sam, I'm getting my shower. Back down in a few."

He walked up the stairs without too much trouble, only a few twinges. After selecting some fresh clothes, he went into the bathroom, getting a quick shower and shave The heat of the water on his leg always made it feel better. When he came back down the steps about fifteen minutes later, he smelled the bacon and coffee. He scrubbed his face and yawned as he walked into the dining room. Emily was at the table, sitting on the phone book and kicking her feet as she ate a piece of bacon. Sam was sitting at the table sipping coffee and the serving plates were covered. Even Dean's coffee mug had a plate sitting on top of it to keep the heat in.

"You guys didn't have to wait on me," Dean said, a little unsure what to make of it. He wasn't accustomed to having meals with people, not really, unless he went out with his dad or Bobby. That, of course, was no longer a possibility. 

He settled at the table, took the plate off the coffee mug and sampled it. Sam had apparently found his stash of 'fancy coffees,' the little sample packs that made one pot of coffee. He wasn't sure which one this was, but it was pretty decent as flavored coffee went.

Dean pulled the aluminum foil off a plate to find bacon underneath it. "Well, c'mon, don't let it get cold," he told them as he snagged some bacon and put some onto Emily's plate, then some on his own. He gave a sharp whistle and tossed a piece of bacon over his shoulder. It never even hit the ground, Rumsfeld was right there and catching it in a flash.

"If I ever get turned into a dog, I want to be your dog," Sam muttered, seeing the bacon fly off the table. "I listened to the radio, roads are closed." He opened up the pancakes and was about to give a couple to Dean but felt the man's steady gaze on him before it flicked to Emily. Taking the hint, Sam served Em, and then himself, then pushed the pancakes over to Dean. No words were necessary, he understood the message. It was a matter of remembering though, he was so used to making sure Dex had his food first and had nothing to complain about. 

Sam slathered a little butter on Emily's pancakes and at her insistence, allowed her to pour her own syrup. "So, since I can't go to town today, I figured I'd help you with Christmas decorations. Where do you keep your lights?" Dipping his pancake into the syrup, Sam took a bite.

The fork was halfway to Dean's mouth when Sam asked his question. "Christmas decorations?" Dean looked blankly at Sam. "I, uh, I don't have..." Dean thought back and remembered Bobby did put up some stuff that was Christmassy in the office. Tinsel, maybe some lights. There might have even been a pathetic little tree, but Dean had never paid it much mind. "Uhm, I don't really know where they're at. I don't really know, uh, what's there."

He tried to remember if he'd come across anything as he had gone through Bobby's things. Maybe the basement? Or the attic? He wasn't actually certain that he had gone through every box, for that matter. "I think maybe the attic," Dean said, not wanting them going to the basement and seeing the panic room. He looked at Emily. The kid had been promised Christmas on the beach. Now it looked like she might be stuck in a house with no decorations at all. He didn't even have anything to give the kid. ...If Sam and Emily were even still here at Christmas.

"I can look this afternoon," Dean said. "I'm sure there's something here."

"Don't worry about it, we'll handle it," Sam said. "We can even make our own decorations."

"We had three Christmas trees," Emily said holding up three fingers. "Then papa broked one, but we still had the other two."

Sam winced. "You'll have to show Mr. Dean the one you drew this morning," he said, hoping to get her past the topic.

"Three trees? Wow. You're lucky. I didn't...we didn't usually have one," Dean said. "But Santa still found us. Glad he doesn't need to track by Christmas tree. Maybe it's those jingle bells you were singing about." Dean looked over at Sam. "And this girl definitely needs a pony tail holder thing. You know to keep her hair out of other people's faces." He gave Emily a mild glare.  
"Huh?" Sam saw the shared look between Em and Dean. "Her hair is so 'D word' slippery, it won't stay in a rubberband."

"You said the D word," she pointed at Sam. 

"Did not, I said 'D,'" he answered smugly, looking over at Dean. "If you're wanting bacon, you better get it before 'you know who'." Of course that reminded Emily and she reached for it.

Dean reach out and snagged the last piece before her. He looked at Emily, gave a heavy sigh, and broke it in half. He handed half of it to Emily, then giving another heavy sigh, broke his half in half again, whistled, and tossed one of the pieces over his shoulder, then ate his remaining piece. 

At Sam's look, Emily thanked Dean and proceeded to eat up the bacon.

"Do you want another coffee before we work on getting you adjusted?" Sam asked. "We can get that out of the way and do a few exercises."  
"Uh oh." She gave Dean a pitying look.

"I was going to head out and get some work done on the cars. Wouldn't it be better to do that after I come back in?" Dean asked.

"Scared?" Sam shrugged. "Whatever you like. But if you have any pain, we can at least do the adjusting."

"No! I'm not scared," Dean protested. "I just thought going out in the cold after you work on me might be a bad idea."

"Uh huh. And putting me to sleep before I can work on you isn't bad?"

"You've got a magic lap," Emily contributed, licking the syrup off her fingers and grinning at both of them.

"Yeah, I've been told that," Dean said, giving Sam a suggestive look. "And you were exhausted after working on people all day. Did you good to relax." Dean pushed his plate away. "Okay, more coffee then you can torture me." 

"Torture, I'll show you torture," Sam threatened, getting up and putting his hand on Dean's shoulder as he got his mug, then took it to the kitchen to refill. When he returned and sat down, he nodded at Emily. "If you're done, you can go watch TV."

"Yay! Mr. Dean, you were snoozing and Daddy said I couldn't wake you."

"And you listened so well, Scamp." Shaking his head, he looked at Dean. "I tried...."

"Oh, I think she ought to have to do a couple pages in her workbook then, before she gets TV," Dean offered. "And if she's _really_ good, I might have a surprise for her tonight. And she still has to show me her Christmas tree."

"But... but I watch TV before breakfast and... and... my tree?" She stopped bouncing around and disappeared into the kitchen to go get it from the table.  
"I don't know which of you is worse," Sam said softly before she returned and gave her paper to Dean. Course she started shifting her weight from one foot to the other, bouncing around again. "She wrote her own name," Sam pointed out.

Dean studied it with a serious face and finally gave a solemn nod. "Now this, this is one very fine Christmas tree. I think we ought to put it up somewhere. Maybe in the living room or something. Can you write your dad's name on it? Do you think you can spell mine?"

"D... ah.. dee. D...a ..d.. ee." She sounded it out a few times, then climbed onto Dean's lap and leaned over the paper, her tongue sticking out as she concentrated, crayon in hand. _Dade_  
Sam laughed and gave her a nod, but felt his heart constrict when she started to sound out Dean's name. Maybe it hadn't occurred to Dean, but it almost felt like she was listing her family on the paper, or that's what would usually happen in most normal households. 

_Deen_. She looked up at Dean. "Did I do good?"

"You did great, sweetie," he said, squeezing her shoulder "Okay. Go watch your cartoons. We'll find a place to hang this up."

As she ran off, Dean gave Sam a smirk. "Good thing I didn't ask her to try to spell Winchester, huh?"

"Very good thing, or you'd be sitting there with her in your lap for an hour. Oh boy, she's very wiggly today, I'm in trouble," he said, his gaze following her to the living room, then looking back at Dean. "You know, I didn't take you for a guy who'd be good with kids. Not that I took you for one who wouldn't, I mean--you are, and she likes you."

"I like kids," Dean said with a shrug. "Never been around any long term. I guess I'm used to calming kids down, distracting them from bad stuff." He saw the question in Sam's eyes. "When I was a hunter. When you go after things going rogue and killing folk, kids get involved sometimes. Sometimes you gotta get kids to talk to you, ask them questions about what they saw. Or sometimes they get themselves in trouble and you have to calm them down after a pretty scary situation. So she's wiggly today. Is that dad-speak for saying she's going to be into mischief today?"

"Means incessant questioning, running around and trouble ahead," he nodded. "About these rogue things, you mean demons. I mean you seriously mean demons," he said, searching Dean's eyes and finding them dead serious. He hadn't seen even one hint of crazy from the guy and there was a reason Dean was armed to the teeth with weapons and books. "The scars... bullets, from that kind of hunting?" he asked in a very low voice though the TV was on and Em would find it hard to hear him. "You save people from them, that's what you're telling me?"

Dean studied Sam a minute and finally sighed. "Not just demons, Sam. A lot of 'monsters' are real. Werewolves, vampires, zombies, ghosts, ghouls, shapeshifters, and probably a lot of other things you've never heard of. Popular lore is typically wrong. Werewolves don't turn into wolves, they get long claws and wicked teeth, but the lore is right that silver kills them, their bite is infectious, and they don't have a clue they're a werewolf. Vampires, just about everything about them is wrong. 

"Bobby was killed and my leg was crushed from a cave-in when we went after something called a wendigo. We nailed it, but we underestimated how smart the bastard was. It had set up traps. Walking out...I tripped one." Dean looked away from Sam, thinking back to that day, the day that changed his life forever. "But yeah, that's what I used to do. Hunt monsters, save people. Now...now all I can do is offer back up to other hunters and do research for them. Sometimes if a hunt is close by, I can go help. I got a bunch of phone lines in the other room. Hunters have a lot of fake IDs, claiming to be FBI, Homeland Security, whatever, to get the info they need to figure out what's going on. It used to be Bobby's job, but now it's my job to answer the phones and confirm their identities." He waited to see if Sam started backing away or got that look in his eyes that said he thought Dean was fucking nuts. If he did, well, he'd give the guy the Galaxie, keep away from him, and as soon as the roads were clear, send him on his way. But he was keeping the drawing of the Christmas tree....

Sam nodded. "Okay, then let's go fix what that bastard wendigo did to you," he said, getting up. He looked thoughtful for a moment, a frown marring his forehead. "I never told anyone this before but my mother, she used to see ghosts. Said she 'freed' them. I believed her when I was kid, but didn't know what to believe later, when I was older." He licked his lips. "I remember my dad saying she died doing her job, but she didn't have a job... he meant with the ghosts. I think--" he shrugged, "I think he hung on just until I was eighteen, for me. The magic was gone with mom and then he followed her," he muttered, suddenly feeling very foolish. Clearing his throat, he started for the living room.

"Did she carry salt and gasoline around with her?" Dean asked and pushed himself up. His leg was stiff already and he cursed under his breath.

"I remember the smell of acetone, and there were sacks of salt." He waited for Dean to get to the living room and nodded toward his and Em's bedroom. "The adjustments are easier on a bed, exercises we can do anywhere." When Dean didn't insist on going upstairs instead, Sam followed him to the guest room. The bed was already made and their clothes were neatly folded.

"Sounds like she was a hunter, maybe a specialist in ghosts. I bet she saved a lot of people," Dean said. He'd check through books and hunter logs and see if he could find anything on her, see if maybe he could show Sam she saved a lot of people. Maybe knowing that would make losing her just a little easier. Turning, he sat down on the bed and gave Sam his best seductive look and velvet voice. "So how do you want me, Sammy?"

"On your knees," something sparked in Sam's eyes. "Hands and knees," he clarified, challenging Dean to do as he asked and not looking away even though he felt the heat rise up to his cheeks. "You're not scared, right?"


	4. Chapter 4

Dean looked down at his groin then back up into Sam's eyes. "'Scared' is not the term I would use at the moment, not at all." Dean climbed onto the bed and got on his hands and knees. "Okay baby, what's next?" 

"Oh, I'm sure you know the drill," Sam huffed, half disappointed and half excited by the fact he hadn't even fazed Dean. The guy was ever the 'bad boy.' He placed his hands on Dean's waist and slowly moved them down to his hips, pressing now and again to feel the alignment of his bones and his muscles. "Lift your right leg just a little," he said, digging his fingers into Dean's hip and right cheek. "That's good," he pressed his own body against Dean's, put one arm around him, and asked, "Does this feel good?" Just as Dean started to answer, Sam leaned in harder and a series of crackings sounded.  
Laughing softly, he pulled away and put his hand on Dean's hips again. "Nice, very nice."

"Can I call you a 'bastard' now, or should I wait until you've thoroughly tortured me?" Dean groaned. "And maybe you better shut the door 'cause I got a feeling I'm gonna be spewing curses that innocent ears shouldn't hear."

"If I close that door, she'll run right over," Sam predicted. Moving in, he put his arm around Dean again, this time stroking him from his belly up to his chest. "I was right. Nice, very nice," he said, feeling Dean tense. "No, that was just a gratuitous groping, relax." As soon as Dean did, Sam gripped Dean's shoulder and pressed his other hand down his back, cracking parts of his side. "That did _not_ hurt," he said. "You're done. Unless there's something else you want adjusted."

"Yeah...yeah, I think there is something else I want adjusted." He ran his hand along Sam's side and down the curve of his ass, then leaned forward and turned over. He looped an arm around Sam's neck and pulled him down. "My lips. They're cold. Think you could fix that for me, too?"

"Only if it's hurting," Sam answered before his lips met Dean's. Cautiously, he kissed him, moving his back and forth across Dean's. Though he tried to concentrate only on the kiss, the sensation of Dean's body under his and his awareness of Dean's strong heart beats against his own chest sent Sam's hormones into overdrive. He cupped the side of Dean's face and opened his mouth, giving a soft moan when he felt Dean's tongue glide against his own.

Dean slid his tongue into Sam's mouth, slowly investigating that sweet, innocent wet heat. He gently tangled his tongue with Sam's then stroked Sam's pallet and explored every niche. He began to suck on Sam's tongue as he ran his hand along Sam's muscular back and his other hand dropped down to Sam's ass, caressing and lightly squeezing those firm muscles. His own soft groan echoed Sam's as he felt his cock beginning to perk up with interest.

Sam swore the hot imprint of Dean's hand on his ass still burned even after he moved it. He shifted slightly, his leg moving between Dean's and fitting them closer together as they kissed harder. His tongue danced in and out of the hunter's wet, sweet mouth, playing tag and taking turns to explore. They were going slow, and yet it was hot and wild and Sam found himself growing hard in his jeans, fantasizing about rolling around with Dean with less clothes on. He slid his hand between their bodies and caressed Dean's nipple, and even through the tee shirt felt how hard and tight it got for him. He heard a moan, and realized it was his own.  
Pulling his head up, he sucked on Dean's lower lip and looked down into his face. So fucking handsome. So strong. So dangerous to Sam's heart. If he were smart, he'd start running. Instead, he traced the lines of Dean's face, his eyebrows, his nose and jaw with his fingers, then lowered his mouth to map the same trail with open mouthed moist kisses until he fit his mouth over Dean's again and sucked the hunter's tongue into his mouth, moaning softly.

It was heaven as far as Dean was concerned. Feeling someone against him, touching him, someone he liked more than he was ready to admit to himself. There were all sorts of reasons he liked the guy and some of them were purely selfish and not fair to Sam. He liked having someone there to do things for him, bringing him a beer and making his coffee, cooking and doing dishes. He had really enjoyed the massage and the adjustments made his hips and legs feel so much better. Then there was the way Sam made him laugh. When was the last time he had laughed like he had in the past few days? These were real laughs, belly aching laughs that lifted his spirits in ways he thought he would never feel again. Then there was Emily. She was an imp, a lovely sweet imp that he was finding he cared about more and more. The thought of _anyone_ laying a hand on either of these gentle, kind souls infuriated him.

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam possessively, protectively, and kissed Sam harder, rolling them over so he was on top and could look down into those hazel eyes. He broke their kiss and pulled away so he could study Sam's face. 

Sam sucked his breath in, staring up at Dean. He didn't know what to expect, but he knew he wasn't about to be told all the ways in which he was wrong and unsatisfactory. He knew that Dean was seeing him, not just some faceless body under him. That the hard-on pressing into his hip was meant for Sam, was about Sam. That this was one of those special moments in life, that he'd remember forever.

"You're beautiful," Dean said, putting his hand alongside Sam's face and stroking his cheek with his thumb. He ran his fingers through Sam's dark hair, and then lightly touched the lingering bruises that were still there from Sam's ex. He leaned down and lightly kissed everywhere that there was bruising, as if his lips could take away the pain. He worked his way down Sam's face to his jaw line, then tilted his head and licked along Sam's neck. Sucking gently he began to slowly rock his hips against the young man in his arms. One hand went to Sam's shirt and slipped underneath it, working it up until his fingers reached Sam's nipple. It was immediate, the way Sam's body reacted to him, the way his own body reacted to Sam's. When was the last time this man had had sex? More importantly, when was the last time anyone had made love to him? Slow loving that focused on giving Sam pleasure rather than taking pleasure for themselves? He wanted to rock harder against Sam, to thrust against him, to feel their erections, even through their jeans, rub against each other, but Sam needed to come first. He was certain Sam hadn't come first in a long, long time.

He pulled away again and worked Sam's shirt up some more as he slid further down Sam's body. God, what a body the man had. He saw the bruising on Sam's abdomen, his chest, his ribs, and his eyes grew dark. He'd kill that bastard ex if the guy dared to show up on his property. He ran his hand lightly over those dark bruises before bending down. Latching on to one of Sam's nipple, he ran his tongue around it, sucking on it, lightly biting it only to suck and lick at it again as he rubbed his body against the hardened member he felt inside Sam's pants.

Warm and safe, safe enough to let go, to enjoy being touched and stroked, that's how Sam felt with this man. Even when Dean inspected the marks on his body, Sam felt no shame. There was healing in those warm touches, touches he welcomed. Even the fierce look that entered Dean's eyes didn't scare him, it made him curious, and made him want to turn the look into lust... lust for himself. The sudden sucking on his tight nipple had Sam arching off the mattress, only to have Dean's hips grind down over his own, the pressure on his hard cock causing him to give a strangled moan, muffling it by pressing his mouth against Dean's shoulder. He writhed under Dean, his hands moving over the man's strong back in a slip, tighten, slip motion.  
"Dean..." he whispered, licking his lips and trying to listen for sounds from the other room. If he didn't need this so much, need it at soul level, he'd have stopped them. But every fiber of his body fought against reason, against risk, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. With each kiss, each wet lick, Sam's heart swelled, his body woke from a long, deep slumber, reminding him what it felt like to desire and be desired. 

Each time Dean's mouth slipped down his body and found new flesh to torture, currents of electric heat went through Sam. He moved restlessly under Dean, he couldn't help himself, though he did his best to keep the sounds down. "You have no idea... the things you're doing to me," he whispered hoarsely, his fingers running through Dean's hair and massaging his nape, trying to hold onto him, onto the moment.

When he felt Dean's warm wet tongue dip into a small, scar on the left side of his abs, he tensed slightly. The exquisite warmth of Dean's lips and the care with which he lavished his attention on the area slowly melted his tension. "It was the last straw," he whispered, trying to give a piece of himself to Dean even as he remembered the plank hitting him across the belly, and sticking to him even as he fell. When he'd managed to pull it off, after Dex had stomped on the board on his stomach, he'd found the worst damage was from the long nail that had been protruding out of it. As blood gushed out of his body and he lost consciousness, he remembered being thankful for having moved so fast in front of his daughter. Emily had collapsed and was crying, but she was unhurt, and that's what was important.

He blinked away the tears and did something novel... asked for what he wanted. "Kiss me again, Dean." He pulled on Dean. "Please, want your mouth on mine. Want to come like that," he said thickly, raising his hips to meet the press of Dean's thigh giving him the pressure he needed against his cock. He was close already, and he wanted this, wanted it before something happened to stop it, before something stole the moment from him.

"Whatever you want," Dean said, lifting away from the delicious body he had been enjoying touching and kissing and tasting. "Anything you want," he said as he looked into Sam's eyes, knowing lust had to be in his own. He ran his hand over Sam's hard member, caressing it before he settled over Sam and began to kiss him slowly and lovingly. He increased the intensity of his kiss as he began to rub his groin against Sam, beginning to tongue fuck him, to show him what he'd like to be doing to Sam.

 _Yes. Just like that. Slow. And hard._ God... this man knew how to kiss. A desperate moan sounded from the back of Sam's throat as he kissed Dean back and met his thrusts. He ran his hands down Dean's back, and cupped his ass, so firm, so good, he squeezed and groped, closing his eyes as he was swept away by a tidal wave of need, of lust and of fulfillment. The onslaught of intense sensations quickly drove him to the edge. His fingers dug into Dean as he gave a last, stuttered moan, his leg hooking around Dean's as he lifted up and started to fall apart in the man's arms. His sounds were swallowed by Dean's mouth and if they hadn't been, Sam had no idea how he'd have kept them quiet. All he knew was that the wet heat spreading across the front of his jeans was welcome for the first time in years. He rocked up harder against Dean, shifting, trying to make the man come, wanting to give him the same pleasure, yet unable to feel guilty that he'd allowed Dean to do all of the work.  
The way Sam thrashed and responded, like a man who had maybe never known love, or had long forgotten what it meant to be put first, brought burning anger into him anew. How could anyone treat this man the way Sam's ex obviously had? Such a gentle and loving soul. He felt the tension enter Sam and kissed him furiously, making certain the sounds of ecstasy of Emily's father was kept as quiet as possible, wanting to make certain his own were as well. When he felt Sam's fingers dig deeply into his flesh, he knew he had brought Sam to completion. Sam's determined thrusts against him brought him closer and closer to the precipice and he let himself go, let himself become the focus of Sam's attention and let Sam pull him tumbling over. He thrust hard as he kissed Sam so intensely he probably bruised them both. He shouted into Sam's mouth and felt his cock pulse again and again. Finally he collapsed, panting, on top of Sam. The man's tender caresses along his back made him smile and he finally pushed himself up and looked into Sam's eyes. 

"I think we ought to repeat this therapy tonight, when the little one is sound asleep. My leg could use the workout," he said, then leaned down and kissed Sam thoroughly before breaking the kiss to draw in another ragged breath. "Maybe a little less clothing would help the workout. What do you think?"

"I think," Sam rolled them over and looked down at Dean, "that you have a very bad and unprofessional therapist who will do anything you ask. Anything," he said, meaning it as he kissed Dean one more time, savoring his taste and the way he picked up on all of Sam's cues, kissing and touching him the way he needed, reading his body language. Caring enough to do so. "And if you're asking for a massage with a _happy ending_ , you got it. I'm your man," he said, his voice still husky. "I better...." he nodded toward the door, then back at Dean. "You made that so perfect, I can't even dream of anything to top it. Clothes or no clothes, you, Mr. Winchester, are amazing."  
"You ain't seen nothing yet," Dean said with a smirk.  
Rolling off, Sam sat with his feet planted on the floor, and it was just in time because Emily appeared at the door. She only stayed for a few seconds, then left. He let out his breath and looked down at Dean. "Just checking up on me." It never failed to humble him, or make him a little sad that she felt she had to watch out for him. "I'll wear her out with activities so she doesn't wake up again at night." His gaze lingered on Dean's potent mouth, but he got up with a reluctant groan and went to pull out a new pair of jeans. Seeing the same reluctance in Dean's eyes as the guy sat up, Sam felt his heart swell again. 

* * *

For the rest of the day Sam forgot not only his troubles, but that he'd ever had any. Going by Emily's mood, she was in the same boat. He'd promised to let her play in the snow so he bundled her up with layers of clothes and they'd played outside a while, throwing snowballs, making a snowman and putting one of Dean's caps on its head, and making snow angels on the ground. They'd taken some coffee to Dean who was working away on the cars in the garage bay, and then went back in the house.

Sam had searched the attic and found a bunch of Christmas decorations. He'd found a whole lot of other weird things too, probably hunters things, he thought, setting them aside. When he came back down, they untangled many lengths of Christmas tree lights. Before beginning any efforts to decorate, Sam decided to put parts of the house into order. As Emily worked on her work book, he straightened out Dean's office and library area, cleaning the shelves off for the first time in years judging by all the dust and sneezing, and then rearranging the books and putting them in alphabetical order. After he was done he had an inkling it might have been better to have arranged by topic, but he guessed Dean could re-order them if he needed to. 

He put away the pens and pads of paper and was reorganizing the drawers he was putting them in when he gave a loud "Huh." Of course that had Emily coming to see. In the drawer he'd found an old box filled with photos. 

They both ooh’d and aah’d and laughed as they tried to decide who was in the pictures and why Mr. Dean was making such funny faces in some of the ones where he was a teen. They both stopped cold seeing one with Dean, his father and another man. Just from the first man's expression and the way he stood, there was no question that was the father. The other had to be Bobby, because the picture was taken right here at the salvage yard. But what had them in shock was the car the men were leaning against. A black Impala, shiny as hell, and very well taken care of. It was no wonder Dean was drooling over Sam's car, it probably reminded him of one he'd owned, or his dad had anyway. Then there was one with a very pretty blonde, Dean's dad in his younger years, and a young boy. 

Later, Sam reheated the stew Dean had made the night before, and went ahead and made some rice to go with it. When he went out to the garage bay to get Dean, he saw the guy leaning over the engine of the Impala and working intensely on it. He slipped up behind him and put his arms around him, laughing when Dean almost hit his head. "It's lunch time." Apparently it was kissing time as well because he was kissed breathless before Dean wiped his hands and prepared to come back with him. 

Right before they got out of the garage, a call came in. Tow trucks were needed for an accident at a highway that had been opened up. Dean thought he might be able to get to the location before some of the other tow trucks and snag part of the job. He came into the house only long enough to get his thick jacket and change into heavier boots. By the time Dean got into the tow truck, Sam came out and brought him a sandwich and a coffee to take along, then watched him drive off. A few minutes later, he realized he hadn't pulled off the small wreathe Emily had insisted they put on the front of the tow truck. He'd attached it for her but fully intended to take it down before Dean drove anywhere. The man had given the snowman a strange look, hopefully the wreathe wouldn't bother him, or he wouldn't notice.  
After lunch, Emily and Sam went to town decorating the house. They put up Christmas lights around the windows in the living room and draped some fake garlands they'd found over the mantle. They'd found old Christmas wrapping paper too which they put to good use, using them to wrap a couple of the paintings on the wall making them look like hanging presents. They also wrapped up small items, like empty medicine boxes and smaller books, and put them on the mantle. Sam found some red and plaid blankets and brought them out to drape over a couple chairs. One thing that surprised the hell out of him was the number of candles he found around the house, and those were immediately put to good use.

There were pine trees in the area and Sam was tempted to go chop a small one down, but with the weather, he wasn't sure it was a good idea. He promised Emily he'd try to get one tomorrow. They put her drawing up on a wall then he put her to work at the kitchen table, making ornaments out of the wrapping paper by pasting the paper over cardboard cut outs of trees and stars and circles. He hadn't been able to find the glue, but a mix of flour and water did the trick. While she was busy with that, Sam cooked dinner. A few times, he thought about calling Dean to be sure everything was alright, but he didn't want to come off like he was nagging or overstepping, so he resisted.

By the time he and Emily sat on the sofa watching TV and had the fire roaring, Sam wasn't sure if he'd tired out Emily or she'd tired him out. Even Rumsfeld, who was now washed and sporting a red bandanna around his neck, looked like he was wiped out as he lay stretched out on the mat in front of the fire. 

* * *  
The accident was a monster to get untangled. One person had been sent to the hospital for a broken leg and a few others went in with moderate to minor injuries. The problem for the tow truck drivers, aside from waiting on the firefighters to get the guy out of the car with the jaws of life, was that the cars were all tangled together. The fact that only one person came out with semi-serious injuries was a miracle. The tow truck drivers got the three cars pulled off to the side to open up the road, but it took them awhile to get pieces bent out of the way and metal untangled and bumpers unlocked so they could even tow the cars. There was only one car that was towable. The other two were going to need flatbeds. Dean had a flatbed but hadn't brought it, so he got the one car that was towable. Unfortunately they wanted the car towed to the next town which was a little closer, but the roads were treacherous and it was slow going. It didn't help when it started snowing again, but this time it was just big fluffy flakes and no real wind to speak of.

When he got out of the truck to get some coffee in that town, he saw the wreath on his grill and rolled his eyes. No wonder Caleb had given him a weird look at the accident scene. Seeing a toy store across the street, he stared at it a minute before getting his coffee and then, taking his coffee with him, he went into the toy store. He grabbed a cart, giving him something to lean on if he needed it but his leg wasn't as bad as he expected it to be. 

He remembered all too well the limitations of having a lot of stuff while you were on the road, and that made him pause. Did he want Sam and Emily to stay? Did they want to stay? Hell, he hardly knew the guy. It was just a matter of convenience for both of them. Dean got physical therapy and they got a trustworthy car. But they were still going to be at the place for Christmas even if they moved on after that. He was making good progress on getting the engine torn down and the insides looked a lot better than he feared it would. Since they would be there for Christmas he could get the kid a few things, right? Give her the sort of Christmas morning he never got.

He wandered up and down the aisles and found markers and a big box of crayons, and lots of coloring books and connect the dots books that were listed as being for her age. Seeing a Barbie, he about choked at the price. Though he looked around, he kept coming back to the princess Barbie. The Disney dolls weren't really any better in price. With a sigh, he tossed the Barbie into the basket. Then he found an electronic learning game, one that actually had an adapter and had games and learning activities that went through several ages and the different learning modules weren't very expensive. It was on clearance and Dean figured Sam could maybe find extra modules at second hand stores in the future. He got some construction paper and safety scissors and started to get glue and glitter until he thought about having a house covered in glitter and decided he'd skip that. She already had a stuffed animal so there was no sense getting her a second one. A small glitter filled plastic baton with colorful metallic plastic ribbons caught his eye and he thought she might like it. As he was passing the boy's section, he found a tow truck with a couple of cars. Smirking, he picked that up too. Maybe he could paint Singer Salvage on the side of it or something, that way the kid wouldn't forget him. 

There were games for adults too, and he looked through them. Sam was obviously a smart guy. He found an electronic game that had chess and brain benders and things he thought Sam might like, then as an afterthought, he went back to the boy's section and found the model cars. It took him some searching but he found a car model that was along the lines of the Impala. Best way to learn about the parts of an engine was to put together a car model or two. The guy could definitely use an education in taking care of that car but he needed to learn the parts. He got him a painting kit and glue to go with it and high gloss black to paint the exterior. 

There were some hats and scarves and gloves for kids, so he picked up a set of pink ones. Emily would look good in pink. He wanted to get her a coat but they wanted so much for them and kids grew so fast. Both Emily and Sam needed decent winter coats. He'd hit the Salvation Army and see if they had something for them he decided. He supposed he could get toys there, but...he wanted to give her what he never had. _New_ toys.

After shelling out the money for the presents and discovering they wrapped things for a dollar a package, he had them wrap up everything but the hat/scarf/glove set. He headed over to the Salvation Army store and couldn't believe his luck. They had a pink Disney coat that looked pretty new and had some Disney princess on it. He found a red velvety dress, perfect for a Christmas dress, maybe for going to church or something and it was cheap because it needed a little mending. Mending he could do, and he found some black shoes that he thought would fit her, a little worn, but he could polish them. He also found some winter boots for the girl. Unfortunately, he didn't see any boots that looked like Sam's size. A good old fashioned somewhat worn army coat that he was sure would fit Sam was among the winter coats and he picked up a blue wool cap and gloves. Perfect. As an afterthought he grabbed a can of tennis balls for Rumsfeld. If he was giving presents he might as well get something for the dog too.

Looking at the time, he couldn't believe how late it was getting. He was getting hungry, too. He stopped and got one more cup of coffee then headed back home, for once turning on the radio and listening to the Christmas songs being played. He didn't know half the words but tried to sing along with them anyhow. The road closures made his trip longer and the sun had just set when he finally pulled onto the drive that led back to the house. He knew he couldn't risk leaving the electronics out in the cold so he'd sneak the bags inside wrapped in a blanket. The other bags with the clothes would hopefully distract the father and daughter, though he put the dress down and shoes in with the presents. He wondered if he even had any wrapping paper. Well, he'd come up with something after he fixed the dress and polished the shoes. When he rounded the corner, he slammed on the brakes, the truck sliding a few feet on the snowy road.

The windows were filled with Christmas lights and there was a big wreath on the door. Smoke drifted out of the chimney and he just stared at the house a minute. His place, lit up like a Christmas tree. It was...it was damned nice and cheerful. It seemed to completely transform his house and a smile tugged at his lips. Shaking his head , he pulled the truck up close to the house.

He shifted the bags around so he could easily toss the one bag of presents into the little office room right beside the front door. The other bags he held out sort of prominently as he unlocked the screen and then the door. As soon as he stepped in he got the one bag into the little office then took a few steps into the house and gaped at the transformation. This was _his_ place? The lights and candles, and present-like decorations hanging on the wall? He walked in a little further and saw the fire and the lit candles, and a bandana around Rummy's neck for Chrissake. His desk with all the research books...the desk was neatly organized and the bookshelves filled and straightened and it looked even dusted. The floors were swept and his mouth was simply open in amazement. He must have stepped into some Twilight Zone alternate universe. This couldn't be his house.

Emily ran toward Dean, then stopped. "You're not gonna get frownies, are you?"

Sam got off the couch. "No, but he might have a Mr. Grinch moment, until he ah... gets used to it."

"Like Rummy?" she said. 

"Um... yeah." Smiling but a little wary about maybe having gone overboard with enthusiasm, Sam searched Dean's face. 

"How many freaking elves did you have helping you?" Dean finally said, walking around looking at everything in amazement. He realized even the dog had been given a bath. He looked at his desk and the books up on the shelf. Fuck. How was he ever going to find anything? He gave a small sigh. What was done was done. And it did...well, look nicer. 

"Here, picked you two up some things. Merry Christmas or whatever," he said, holding out a bag for each of them.

"It's not Christmas yet," Emily pointed out, though she ran and put one arm around Dean's leg as she reached for her bag.

"You didn't have to...." Sam felt a lump grow in his throat and swallowing over it took the offered bag, his eyes locking with Dean's.  
Em's happy shrieks pulled him out of the moment, and he laughed and agreed that the pink coat was beautiful, and helped her get it on. Course she had to try the scarf and gloves and then wanted to try the boots on. Sam kept looking at Dean and then was reminded by Emily to look into his own bag. He pulled out the heavy jacket and when Emily was busy looking down at her boots, he grabbed Dean's shirt, pulled him close and gave him a quick kiss. "You know you don't have to go Father Christmas on me, but thanks." He went ahead and shrugged the coat on and showed it to them, as well as the hat and gloves.

Dean had been smiling at the joyful look on the kid's face when suddenly Sam was kissing him. He barely had a chance to respond before Sam was already pulling away. "Uh, well, you two can't be doing a South Dakota winter without decent coats. They didn't have any boots that I thought would fit you," Dean said to Sam. He hadn't really been sure what size Sam would wear anyhow but the biggest he saw were size tens.

"You can wear those when we go chopping tomorrow," she decided. 

Sam gave her a look, which had her quickly looking up. "Thank you Mr. Dean." Then she scampered away and spun in circles, making the bottom of the coat flap around.

"You're welcome." Looking at Sam he raised an eyebrow. "Chopping?" He rolled his eyes. "Christmas tree, right?" He saw the concern flash in Sam's eyes. "No, no, it's okay. Axe is in the basement. Chain saw too. Just be sure to clean off the sap and oil it when you're done if you use the axe. And I don't wanna hear it if Rummy lifts his leg and you gotta clean it up." Sniffing the air he said, "Something smells good. Did you fix dinner? Oh, and I rented some Disney movie yesterday, I thought Emily might like to watch it but we didn't get that far last night. It's 'Mu' something or other. Hope that's okay." 

"Dude, you're crazy," Sam said, laughing about having to clean up after Rumsfeld's accidents. "Yeah, why wouldn't it be okay? That's just... hope you don't start getting tired of hearing 'thanks.' Dinner is ready or we can hold off if you'd rather relax first. How'd it go?" he asked, taking his new jacket off and hanging it on the door, stuffing the cap and gloves into its pockets. He would have taken Emily's too but she was still having fun with her new clothes so he left her alone.

"Yeah, give me a few minutes to just warm up and have a drink, read the mail, and stuff. Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. Gotta write up my time on that job, too. It was a bit--bear." Dean shed his coat and boots. Rumsfield wanted his ears scratched so Dean obliged. "Dude, you look all snazzy in that bandana and you don't smell like junkyard dog. Don't be getting any ideas about having any lady dogs over, though."

Walking over to the cabinet, he gently nudged Emily aside. Yeah, she did look good in pink. Man, he hoped that dress fit her. The coat was just a little long in the sleeves, but otherwise was a decent fit. Opening the liquor cabinet he pulled out a bottle of whiskey, poured two fingers in the glass, and put the whiskey back in the cabinet. He walked over to the couch and sank down into it gratefully. Picking up the mail, he noticed some of the envelopes had little Christmas stars and trees and things drawn in crayon on them and softly laughed. He changed the TV channel and flipped it to the news, most interested in the sports scores and the upcoming weather, going through the mail while he was waiting for them to come up.

Seeing what Dean was laughing at, Sam rolled his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't notice she'd gotten to the mail. I thought I kept her too busy to get into anything." He gave the guy some space to do his own thing, gathering up the crayons and things that had been left out. 

He finally managed to talk Emily into giving up the coat for now, though she kept the scarf on. When the news showed some footage of what looked like a classroom brawl, he saw her gesture like she was shoving an invisible person and heard her whispered 'pow.' "No!" his tone was sharp and adamant.

She looked up at Sam, eyes wide.

"What do we do when someone does something we don't like? We use our words, right?"  
Shaking her head, she just danced away, seeing she wasn't in trouble. 

Sighing, Sam dropped down on the other end of the couch and leaned forward, resting his arm on his knee and staring at the television.

Dean looked over at Sam. "What was that about? And don't give me 'nothing.' Talk to me Dude," he said, turning the TV down some.

Sam rubbed his index finger back and forth across his lips, then turned and gave Dean a look that said he didn't want to talk about it. Yet Dean's steady gaze demanded an answer. "I don't want her learning from _him._ Thinking hitting and shoving is normal," he said tightly. His jaw throbbed. 

"Ah." He studied Sam a moment then twisted and looked at the young girl. "Emily, c'mere a minute."

When the young girl came over, Dean pulled her into his lap. "You like being shoved or hit? You like seeing your daddy being shoved or hit?" She shook her head 'no.' "People can be mean, Emily. You shouldn't ever do anything like that unless you're defending yourself. Nice people don't do things like that but not so nice people think they can bully smaller people. That's a bad thing. Promise me you won't ever do anything like that. You're a nice person, aren't you? You don't want to make people feel bad or hurt them because most of them feel just like you. Promise me you won't do those things. You understand?" He stroked her hair and tugged lightly on the scarf still around her neck.

Eyes wide, she nodded as he spoke. "I won't. I'm nice... I promise." She looked at the TV and back, "... but he pushed first... he hurted the little boy and..."

"And the little boy should have asked him to stop, and told the teacher," Sam cut in. "What did Miss Eliza teach you? Use your..."  
"Words," she answered, but looked down.

"And two wrongs..."

"Don't make a right," she finished for him.

"That's right." Sam sensed resistance from both of them and there was a warning in his eyes for Dean. He didn't need her confused or being told differently, whatever Dean's philosophy might be. "I'll get dinner on the table, Em, go wash up," he said and got up, heading to the kitchen. This wasn't something he was prepared to negotiate about.

"You listen to your dad, Emily," Dean said helping her off his lap and to her feet. "Words are always better, even if they seem harder sometimes. It shows how much stronger you are, and how much better a person you are." He smacked her very lightly on her bottom. "Now go do what your dad said."

After watching Emily prance off to the bathroom, he got up and walked out to the kitchen and washed his hands. "Sorry if I stepped in where I didn't belong. I remember my dad telling me things and me not wanting to accept them. Then Uncle Bobby would sit me down and pretty much tell me the same thing. Maybe it was because it wasn't my dad, but it was someone else I liked and trusted, I guess I figured the two most important people in my life couldn't be wrong, whether I liked it or not. Not that I figure I rate that high in her eyes, but...I get that you want to make sure she doesn't think what your ex did was right or normal." As he took the plates out of the cupboard he asked softly. "So what's his name? Your ex?"

"Do you?" Sam asked a little stiffly, chopping up the lettuce he'd washed earlier. He closed his eyes and let out a breath. "Sorry. Sore topic, no pun intended." He cut a little more, then finally answered. "Dex. Dexter. I met him when I was in college. I finished high school early, thought I was doing something great, rushing things." He gave a snort. "Clearly I didn't have clue. My dad passed away and, I guess I was alone and I don't know, I rushed into that relationship too. By the time I figured out he was nothing like he'd pretended, it was too late."  
He put the lettuce into the large salad bowl and started slicing some tomatoes. "You probably think I overreacted back there," he nodded toward the living room. "She's a great kid, a really great kid, but...abused children or kids from that type of home, they often resort to getting physical when they're frustrated. I was able to get her in school in Vermont, kindergarten, at least for a couple months." She'd never gone to preschool but he'd taught her and it had taken a lot of luck and pleading, but he'd finally gotten the school to take her, and part of the reason was that she wasn't behind on the concepts the other kids had already been taught. "One time, she bit a kid. It happens, kids are kids, but I have to be more careful, more vigilant, just in case." He turned over his shoulder and looked at Dean, pretty sure the man would disagree.

Dean set the plates on the counter and came up to Sam wrapping his arms around Sam's waist. "She's _your_ daughter. Those are your calls to make. But I will say, when she gets a little older, when she can understand the difference, that she needs to know it's okay to defend herself or else she could end up in a relationship where _she's_ abused. Sometimes the difference between violence and self-defense isn't always clear. That's my two cents, but if you ever strike out in self defense and you haven't explained to her the difference, it's gonna really mess with her world." Dean kissed Sam on the neck and then turned to the silverware drawer and gathered what he needed.

"Keep judging," Sam huffed, shooting a glare at Dean. The surprise on Dean's face didn't dissuade him, he knew what Dean was getting at. The same thing most people questioned. How does a guy let another guy beat on them, especially someone who looked like himself: big, strong, fit. 

"I'm not judging and I'm not trying to pick a fight," Dean said, raising his hands in surrender. "You said it yourself, you got in too deep before you realized the sitch you were in. I don't know the sitch. I don't know why you haven't fought back, but I'm sure you have your reasons. You did run though, and that, I'm certain, took more courage than most people could begin to imagine. I don't get it, no, but who's to say if I was in your place, I wouldn't have done exactly what you did?" He gave Sam a tender look. "You wanna tell me about it, say the word. You don't wanna talk about it, that's fine too. You wanna fight about it, and I'll eat dinner alone."

That Dean considered this 'fighting' made Sam second guess himself. He finished making the salad and brought it to the table, looking into the living room to see if Emily was around. Seeing she wasn't, he walked back into the kitchen and pulled the pan out of the oven and set it on the stove top, then started cutting into the baked pasta with meat sauce. His hand fucking shook and he had to concentrate twice as hard to cut straight as he got his thoughts into order. "He's a drug dealer. Not just a dealer, but head of his gang. His guns and his boys, they were always around. There was no fighting him, because fighting him meant fighting _them_. And there was no leaving because--" His eyes grew misty. "He didn't ever, not once dress her or feed her, or pay for anything of hers, or play with her, and yet he could take her away with the snap of his fingers. The police would side with him, the state, the courts... and he fucking used that against me every day. Every day until the threat to her was bigger."  
He dropped the knife and turned around, pulling drawers open as he searched for a trivet, but hardly saw what was in them.

Dean touched Sam's arm, finally gently wrapping his hand around those strong biceps to make Sam stop. He gathered the young man in his arms. "It's gonna be okay. He's not gonna touch you and he's not gonna touch her or take her away." He stroked Sam's hair. "You did what you had to. There's no shame in that. You love her more than anything, and that was the only way to protect her. And going up against ten bad-ass guys, no matter how bad-ass you are, well, that's pretty suicidal. You're free and I'm gonna make sure you stay free. I got friends in low places. We'll get you a birth certificate showing she's yours. We'll get you new names if you want, new IDs, social security cards, whatever. I'll make sure it'll stand up to the most intense scrutiny, okay?" Dean kissed his temple. "I'll take care of you, Sammy. Both of you."

"We got away, and then he found us." Sam leaned against Dean, resting his chin on Dean's shoulder for a moment. "You... you can do that? Birth certificate? You have no idea how hard it was getting her into school." God it felt good to tell someone the truth about Emily. Before, he'd been afraid Dean would have nothing to do with him, not when Sam could be guilty of kidnapping, at least under the eyes of the law. "I was thinking California, or maybe Canada, just because I don't think he knows people that far." Except his heart was sinking even as he thought of going that far away. He wanted to stay right here, in this man's arms, which wasn't fair to Dean and it was probably just as crazy as anything else he'd ever done. Rushing into things. "Sorry, I didn't mean to--"  
Pulling away, he quickly wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand, then looked at Dean. "I know I shouldn't drag anyone into this, but I do need your help."

"And I can help. Canada might be tough. I don't know I can manage a work visa or anything. Any place in the States and yeah, I can see to it. To do one good enough to stand up to intense investigation, that'll take a little research and time. Have to find the right records, replace 'em, change 'em. Usually as hunters we just do quick fake IDs. I'll have to go to a specialist, but I know a couple. Sometimes as hunters things can go bad, real bad, and hiding out from cops and stuff becomes a necessity, so there are a few magic workers out there. I'm the go to guy for a lot of research and," he walked out of the room and pulled the towel off that was covering the various phones labeled with government agency names, "the 'boss' people call to confirm a hunter's identity. This means I got all sorts of favors due I can call in." The thought of Sam leaving to go on to California or wherever made his heart clench, but Sam had to do what he felt was best. Coming back, he cupped the side of Sam's face and said, "You're not dragging me in to anything. I'm jumping in with both feet, eyes wide open, okay? No strings attached to any of this either." He kissed Sam lightly on the lips. "So let's eat."

Dean turned and saw Emily standing in the doorway. It was obvious she'd just seen them kiss.

"Okay." Sam turned and Saw Em staring up at them. "Ah... I had something in my eye."

"Is it out?"  
"Yeah, yeah it's out," Sam said, relieved they weren't going to be subjected to embarrassment.

"So Mr. Dean was kissing you better?"

Dean smirked. "Yup, I was kissing him to make it all better. Is that okay? You mind if I kiss your daddy?"

"Dean!" Sam made a face, feeling the heat climb up to his cheeks as he tried to usher Emily out of the kitchen and to the table.

She shook her head in agreement, then whispered over her shoulder as if it was a secret between herself and Dean, "I think he likes it."

"I have ears, and I'm right here," Sam said, laughing under his breath when she ran from him and went to get the phone book herself. Slapping it onto the chair, she climbed up. "

You're bad." Sam's look was for Dean as he started to serve the food. A birth certificate. It was almost like a dream, they really could make it. He was about to go in and get a couple beers when he saw Dean had already brought them out, and he sat. Noticing Emily practically staring at Dean as she waited for him to take a bite, he said, "it's her fave."

"Then I'm sure I'm going to like it." Dean leaned across the table and 'whispered' to her. "I think he likes it when I kiss him, too." Grinning at the fresh flush he saw on Sam's face, he carefully took a bite of the hot pasta. After a moment he gave a nod. "Yep, it's definitely a winner."

Sam had knocked his knee against Dean's under the table but to no avail. The guy was really enjoying himself. Well, he'd find out soon enough that little Emily was just as apt to turn on him.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, while Sam waited for it. He could see she was bubbling with excitement, wanting to spill but waiting for the right moment. Apparently the right moment came after Dean gave a satisfied 'Mmmm" as he swallowed his food.

"Daddy's sneaky. You just ate broccoli!" 

Sam started laughing. "She's right Mr. keep-that-green-stuff-away-from-me." He'd cut the broccoli up into undetectably small pieces. "It's good for you."  
Dean made a face and stared at the pile of pasta in front of him. It tasted like lasagna or something close though it was spaghetti noodles. It had tomatoes, onions, small pieces of green pepper, cheese and burger. He poked through the pasta looking for those nasty little pieces of broccoli but couldn't find anything he was certain was broccoli. He wadded up a napkin and threw it at Sam. "You're as bad as Bobby was." Looking at Emily, he could tell she was utterly gleeful about the whole thing. "You coulda warned me earlier you know."

After one more look at the pasta, he shrugged. It tasted good, he was hungry, and so long as he couldn't taste the broccoli, it didn't really matter to him. "I guess I'm gonna have to make one of my special dishes then. It's the lazy man's cabbage rolls. Cut up cabbage, rice, tomatoes, and burger. Tried it with brussel sprouts once but it was too bitter and besides, cabbage is a whole lot cheaper. And cauliflower and Velveeta, that's decent too." Shaking a fork at Sam, he added, "So I do 'healthy' stuff. I just don't do broccoli and I'm not a rabbit." He then went back to eating the pasta, passing Sam the occasional glare.

Sam and Emily shared a look that said Dean was in fact 'doing' broccoli, but Sam didn't give voice to the sentiment. His mouth did quirk each time he was on the receiving end of one of Dean's mock glares though. "Don't like brussel sprouts, huh?"

That had Emily giggling again as she recognized the look in her dad's eyes.

"Brussel sprouts, they're okay, but freaking expensive. They just didn't work with the cabbage rolls." He shook his fork at Sam. "Don't get any ideas about cutting them up into tiny pieces. If I'm gonna eat 'em I'm gonna enjoy them. I like 'em if they're in butter or cheese."

Dean hadn't much more than taken another couple bites when the phone rang. He pushed himself to his feet, wincing as his leg cramped. He limped to the phone. "Singer Salvage," he answered. A frown crossed his face as he listened. "Dude, that sounds like a shade. Silver and holy water I think, but there's something special...let me get to my books. Mercer went up against one. It's in his journal. Iron doesn't work on them though it'll slow 'em down." He made his way to his desk and looked at the bookshelf. "Sam! Where'd you put the journals? This one's black with broken leather cords that used to keep it closed. Real worn binding and cover. Salt water splotches on it. It was on the far right corner of the desk, about the fifth or sixth one down." 

Emily's head jerked up at hearing her dad's name called like that.  
"Eat up," Sam told her, flashing her a reassuring smile as he got up and joined Dean at the bookshelf. "Mercer... M...." he said dragging his finger along the shelf until he got to the names starting with that letter, and pulled out the journal Dean wanted. Curious, he watched as Dean set it down and flipped though its pages like a man who'd been through it many times and knew what he was looking for. 

Dean knew the shade was toward the back. "Here, I got it. I knew it was one of those complicated ones. You need salt water, about half a bushel's worth, that'd be four gallons. Drop the silver bullets in the water and turn it into holy water. Nail the shade and you'll end up with grey dust. Sweep up the dust, put it in the holy saltwater, keep a light on it and let the sun evaporate the water. What's left after the water evaporates you gently fill the container with soil from holy ground, then bury it on holy ground, leaving it in the container. But you gotta bury it during the day."

Dean listened to the guy on the other end and gave a smirk. "Dude, I told you it was complicated. Use a ten gallon fish tank, put a light on it and an electric heater next to it and keep it in the sun as much as possible. Shouldn't take all that long to get the water to evaporate. Mercer was from the 1700s. They were real thorough back then, and maybe he did more than necessary, but he went up against one and didn't do the dust in water thing and it reformed the next night. Oh, and keep it out of your own shadow, that's how it does in people, sucking the life out of them....yeah, it doesn't like light. Mercer used a ring of oil, chased it into the ring and lit the oil, keeping it trapped in the light long enough to nail it. You hafta make sure there are still some shadows in that ring or it'll completely disappear....it might, but I can't guarantee it'll destroy it. This is the only recorded way of taking one out....Not a problem. Yeah Merry Christmas to you too," Dean said with a chuckle. He hung up the phone and handed the book back to Sam, paying attention to where Sam put it, then walked back out to the dining room table. 

"Fair warning," he told Sam, "I get calls like that at all hours. A lot of them require hours or even a couple days of research. Was lucky with that one since I remembered it. Had over a year of nothing to do but to study all of Bobby's books. Learned a handful of new languages in the process. Got about half of them scanned into a computer too. The more recently printed stuff I can use that computer recognition stuff to find topics. The hand written, or older print, it's just preserving them." He settled back down at the table and gave Emily a slight smile and began eating again. Okay, it really was good, broccoli or no broccoli.

"Late night calls and a lotta research, you're really scaring me with vices like that," Sam grinned. "Next you'll tell me you watch a lot of television, oh the horrors." Watching Dean eat, he added, "Gotta admit, you do know your stuff. I'd hate to be a... a thing that goes bump in the night, with you around." 

"Why are you making that face?" Emily asked.

Dean almost snorted pasta out his nose at what Sam said and then the look that passed across Sam's face as he realized what he'd said. "Oh, I dunno, all things that go bump in the night aren't necessarily bad and yeah," he smirked, "I do know my stuff." He gave Sam a discreet once over then locked gazes with him, letting Sam see the heat in his eyes. 

Knocking Dean's knee with his own under the table, Sam tried to keep his cool even if Dean was making his mind race ahead and think of what it would feel like to have Dean's arms around him again and maybe a bump or two of the non-supernatural variety. "Oh, Dean brought you a DVD. Mulan," he said, taking a bite, and watching Dean under his lashes. Dammit, now all he could think about was being with him. He'd bet that's exactly what Dean wanted too, probably payback for the broccoli.  
During the entire time Emily gave them an excited recap of the story, Sam's mind wouldn't quit. Almost unaware, his eyes were focused on Dean's mouth. His own tongue sweeping across his lower lip when he saw Dean make the same motion. When he finally drew his gaze away, he thought he saw a 'knowing look' in Dean's eyes, and this time banged him harder with his knee and gave him a glare he hoped would stop both of them.

"It's just rented, kiddo. Gotta take it back tomorrow so you're gonna have to watch it tonight," Dean told her, laughing about both how he had obviously turned on Sam and at the young girl's excitement at getting to see apparently one of her favorite Disney shows. He'd picked it up because he figured 'girl with a sword,' that he could probably deal with watching. Besides, he figured if the girl had a sword, she probably wouldn't be all wimpy, run away, damsel in distress. Course after Sam's upset earlier, he hoped it wasn't something that would encourage the girl that violence was okay, but Sam seemed to know the story and didn't seem concerned. If he had, he would have told Dean not to let her watch it. Emily was finished with her meal, having eaten while he was on that phone call. He saw her sitting there, all antsy, obviously ready to get up and do _something._ Tilting his head just a little, he glanced at Sam who still had a bit more to eat.

"Sam, I don't know how the dinner thing works for you but she doesn't have to wait for me to finish," he said quietly. "I mean, if that's what both of you are waiting on. All this broccoli, it's slowing me down, you know."

"Broccoli slowing you down," Sam snorted. "No, Em may be excused." The speed with which she scrambled down had him rolling his eyes but seeing the pasta pinched between her finger, he snapped his head around to see what was going on just in time to see her leading Rumsfeld to the living room. "Is it just me or does she have _all the men_ in this house wrapped around her finger?" When he turned back, he gave Dean a pointed but happy look, "especially you."

"Don't know what you're talking about," Dean said. "I hate kids. Think they should get bread and water. Sit in a corner and be quiet. Certainly not be given pink coats and hats and scarves. Or get to watch Disney movies. Or have a roaring fire to watch it by and people to snuggle up with. No, I'm definitely not wrapped around her finger. Should I mention the ice cream in the freezer now? Or the Oreos I put up in the pantry?" Dean brightened. "Hey we've got pie left, right? Warm that up with a little ice cream," he smacked his lips, "sounds like a great dessert. Get this taste of broccoli out of my mouth. You don't believe I have the taste of broccoli in my mouth, just kiss me and I'll prove it to you."

Seeing the imp was out of sight, Sam put his palm on the table and half stood as he leaned in and slanted his mouth across Dean's. Already tortured by thoughts of kissing the man, he couldn't resist the invitation. Dean's lips were warm and moist and so damned tempting, Sam could forget himself completely. Sliding the palm of his hand across Dean's face, he cupped the back of his head and held him in place as he plunged his tongue inside, mapping every corner of his mouth and darting away from Dean's tongue, teasing and tantalizing him. It was a game, a sweet, hot game, but the rules changed on Sam when Dean's tongue chased his more earnestly. His heart rate kicked up and he gave a needy moan, moving his mouth more firmly against Dean's, hungry, hungry for more kisses, for more affection, for more love without pain.  
Dean slowly stood as he responded to Sam's kiss, feeling Sam's need, feeling his own need for companionship well up inside him. His mother had died, his dad had died, then Bobby. He didn't really have friends, not with the way he grew up always moving around. Sure he had some hunters he was friends with but they weren't the type of friends that you called and say hey to for no particular reason. He didn't have a girlfriend, though he'd certainly sampled some of the girls in the area. This was different with Sam. He felt _needed_ in a way he had never felt before, in a way he had always wanted to feel. Once he was on his feet he pulled Sam into his arms. He ran his hands along Sam's back but forced himself to keep his hands in 'appropriate' areas since there was a six year old around here somewhere. He savored Sam's kiss, his taste, his smell, and feeling a warm body pressed against him who expected nothing from him, but was willing to take whatever Dean offered him.

God... he could get used to this, so fucking used to this, Sam thought. Dinner with a man who talked to him, not at him. A man who spoke his mind and challenged him without discounting his opinions or overriding them. A man who was strong and protective and who did an awful job of hiding the terrible fact that he had a really big heart, big enough to care for strangers, people he could expect no gain from. A man who teased and made him burn, a man who could be the stuff of his dreams, not perfect, but perfect for him. Giving another soft moan, Sam slowly withdrew his tongue, and kept his mouth pressed against Dean's for a moment before breaking the kiss. "Definitely don't taste like broccoli. Tastes like Dean, my favorite flavor," Sam told him.  
"You definitely got rid of any lingering taste of broccoli," Dean said.

At just that moment, Sam felt something pass between his legs and Dean's and saw Rumsfeld enter the kitchen. Seconds later, something else bumped against him and Emily crawled through their legs on all fours, chasing the dog. Pulling away from Dean's arms, he started laughing. First it was soundless, but then he just couldn't stop.

Dean joined in the laughter. He played with Rumsfeld, tossing the ball for him, but he couldn't chase him, and couldn't even really play tug of war with him most of the time. Watching the dog run around like a puppy with Emily chasing him made him smile. "I get the feeling she doesn't mind if we kiss, what about you?"

"I think you got her permission this morning," Sam shook his head. "No, I'm starting to get the feeling you can't do anything wrong. She likes you. Oh, and she said she's going to help you fix cars again." He grinned. "Just warning ya." He started to clear the table and added, "Why don't you go sit down, it might be better if it doesn't get too hot in the kitchen. You know?"

Dean chuckled. "Well, perfect I'm not. Unless I'm working with big equipment or the car's up on jacks, she's welcome out in the garage with me, preferably staying on the stool. Besides, maybe I can teach _one_ of you two how to take care of that car of yours." Dean smacked Sam on the ass. "Yep, I definitely think it would get too hot in the kitchen with both of us. You mind brewing up some coffee and doing the dessert thing? Let me know when it's safe for me to come out and help. I'll get the movie out and get it set up for us." Dean paused a moment in thought then looked at Sam. "I'm new at this whole kid thing. Does she need a bath first or something? I can do the clean up if you need to give her a bath or whatever."

"No, she got her bath early, after we played in the snow. It'll take me just a second to get her into pjs. Go, sit, do the DVD thing. I got this, really." Seeing Dean hesitate, Sam gave him a light push and resumed cleaning up. They were playing a dangerous game of 'house' and it was gonna hurt like hell when the game was over, he knew that real well. But he wasn't gonna pull out of the game, he couldn't.


	5. Chapter 5

They'd had their dessert while watching the show, all three of them piled on the couch next to each other. Sam asked Emily if she'd been afraid when she woke up alone last night, and she'd said no, she'd just wanted to get 'cozy cozy' with them, and that's why she'd slept on the couch too and not awakened them. It had been cozy alright, not something Sam was used to from anyone other than Em. He'd leaned over and kissed Dean's cheek, without saying a word.

About three fourths of the way into the movie, Emily fell asleep on him. Sam picked her up and took her to bed, tucking her in with her stuffed animal. He waited to make sure she stayed asleep, then shut the light and left the door slightly open so she'd be able to see if she woke.  
When he returned, he joined Dean who was still on the couch staring at the TV. "So, new recruit to Disney-love, huh? We'll get you Little Mermaid next time," he said, leaning against Dean, content to watch the movie for what was probably the tenth time. 

Dean put his arm around Sam's shoulders and pulled him close. "Hey the movie rocks for a Disney flick. No big mushy stuff. Battles and good evil guys. For a cartoon character, she's kinda hot too. Not much for musicals, but the songs aren't bad." He glanced at Sam. "Somehow I got a feeling I'm not going to think the same of this mermaid flick. Besides, mermaids are wicked bitches to put down." 

"If we're talking cartoons, I have a secret thing for Prince Eric myself," he answered, "wait... mermaids are evil? No, don't tell me, I don't wanna know. Next you'll ruin unicorns." Settling in the curve of Dean's arm, Sam pus his hand over Dean's and realized that what he was feeling right now, that that's what 'happy' felt like. 

"Unicorns aren't real as far as we know, so you can believe anything you want about them. Course the lore about unicorns indicates they were pretty freaking wicked, and if you weren't pure of heart and a virgin, you really didn't want to come across one. Prince Eric huh? That's Little Mermaid? I'll have to check out my competition I guess. See what turns you on." Dean turned his hand up so they were clasping hands, intertwining his fingers with Sam's. "So you only have an interest in guys? Never swung to the other side of the fence?" 

Sam was about to tell him that when it came to competition, he had nothing to worry, but then Dean asked him a more serious question. "Yeah, just guys for me." He squeezed Dean's hand as he spoke. "I figured it out pretty quick, in junior high. You know, kissing a girl at the movies and imagining I was with her brother was a huge clue. How about you? What made you go for it with a guy the first time?" Damn, how he wished he'd met Dean a long time ago, maybe been the one.... He waited until the scene Dean was watching was over, and added, “or were you always open to it?" 

"No, I pretty much stuck with girls through high school and stuff," Dean said. "Occasionally a guy would make me turn my head, but I always kinda figured it was just noticing he was good looking, built, nothing sexual, just appreciative. I never really thought about doing it with the guy. I got hit on by guys at bars, always turned 'em down. One night I was pretty smashed. It had been a bad hunt, hadn't saved the damsel in distress though we got the monster at least. A guy, a really hot guy had been watching me I guess. I got up to leave and he followed me out to my car. He wouldn't let me drive, said I was too drunk. Which I was. Don't ask me why, but I let him take me home to his place. Asked me if I'd ever done it with a guy. I said no and he asked me if I wanted to. If I did, I could join him in the bed, if I didn't I could crash on the couch. I was drunk enough, I said what the hell. That and after seeing that girl...I couldn't face sleeping with a girl, figured I wouldn't be able to for a while." Dean paused, the face of the dead girl still haunting him. He knew he had done everything possible, but he didn't like to lose, and that one...that one hurt. They'd been so damned close to saving her....

He shook himself out of his memories. "Yeah, so the guy and I did it and I enjoyed it. He took care of me the next morning when I woke up with the hangover from hell. Wanted to know if I wanted to try it sober. I thought long and hard and decided, yeah. Dad and me left town the next day. After that, it was an occasional thing. I've always been pretty damned picky about what guy, though never been as picky about girls. I swing toward girls more often. The guy has to be," he looked over at Sam, "special. Something about him." He squeezed Sam's hand and gave a smile telling Sam he thought Sam was pretty damned special. 

"If I saw you at a bar, I'd hit on you, definitely. Even if I thought you were straight. I'd take that risk," Sam said, his face serious as he reached up and stroked Dean's cheek. "That goes double for now, now that I know you. Not just because you're freaking off the Richter scale hot." Sliding his thumb over Dean's lips, he traced them. "Know what? I love that you were flirting with me even before you knew I'd go for it." Sam had just claimed he'd have done the same, and he wasn't lying. But the circumstances would have had to be different. He wouldn't risk anything while he was on the run with his daughter, he'd meant if everything else in his life were settled, and even with his history with Dex, he would have risked being struck by a straight guy who didn't appreciate being hit on, so long as it was this man.

"Off the Richter scale. Mmm, you asking me to shake your world tonight? I think I can do that." Dean smiled as Sam's thumb brushed across his lips. "Me? Flirting with you? Nah, I'd never do that. I really figured that you were straight. And if you'd hit on me at the bar, I'd probably tell you to sit down, have a drink with you, and when I saw the type of guy you are, I'd have said yes, pretty damned sure of it."

He glanced over at the TV. "And the girl gets the guy and they live happily ever after, though I got a feeling that samurai has a spitfire on his hands. You know what that means don't you? I want that massage you promised me, the one with the happy ending."

"Then let's take this party upstairs and see what kinds of fires and endings we can start... and finish." Yeah, that kiss after dinner and its aftermath was fresh in Sam's mind. "I'll meet you upstairs. Feel free to strip down for me," he said with a wink, quickly pulling out of reach and heading to his room to get his oils.

* * *

Dean didn't hesitate to strip every last bit of clothing from himself. He was looking forward to the massage, and the happy ending Sam promised. He was certainly looking forward to getting to touch Sam's flesh, to see the man naked and run his hands over every inch of that body. Dean was accustomed to topping and he was certain Sam was used to bottoming and it being anything but pleasant. He would make certain that he did shake the man's world, that he did give Sam a taste of what another lover could give to him, that there was life after that bastard and it could be good. He pulled back the covers and slipped underneath them, pulling them back over him to keep warm until Sam came upstairs. He resituated the pillow a couple times, actually feeling a little nervous which was absurd. He just...he wanted to make it perfect for Sam. He heard Sam coming up the stairs and began making exaggerated snoring sounds. 

Walking inside, Sam put his hand on his hip and looked down at the man feigning sleep. "Jerk."

Getting no reaction, he gave an exaggerated sigh. "I wanted to run my hands over every inch of you, squeeze you in all the right places and massage you with more than my hands, until you're so hard for me, you want to do some massaging of your own. Guess I'm just gonna have to learn to live with disappointment, hmm?" 

Dean opened his eyes and grinned at him. "Now that is something certainly worth waking up for. Nope, no disappointment in this house. Promise. I am gonna rock your world baby...after you get the rocks outta my back and leg with those magic hands of yours." He waved Sam to lean in close, like he was going to whisper something. When Sam did, Dean planted a hot kiss on the man's lips. "Mmm, you taste good. And not a hint of broccoli."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," Sam answered, lifting the blanket and sheet up and smirking at the sight of Dean completely naked for him. He peeled the blanket off, then pulled the sheets down to his Dean's waist. Then he started to run his hands over Dean's face, pressing his fingers at pressure points along his scalp, eyebrows, the hollows of his cheeks, and his jaw. "You know there's like a fifty percent chance you _will_ fall asleep," Sam said. "If you do, it's alright. I'll just wake your ass up early." 

Dean chuckled when Sam had to take a peek at what was under the covers. He hadn't really expected Sam to start on his face but it sure felt good.

Sam moved his hand down Dean's throat, then stopped to put a little oil on his hands. He started to massage his chest, paying special attention to his shoulders. Moving from standing right next to him to a point above his head and looking toward Dean's feet, he pushed his hands under Dean's shoulders, all the way to his mid back. "Relax, you don't have to lift up." With his finger tips pressing into Dean's back, Sam lifted slightly and pulled his hands slowly all the way back, letting Dean's weight help with putting pressure on his muscles. After a few more times, he saw that Dean was relaxed and not helping him, and that his eyes were closed. Smiling, he leaned down and sucked on his nipple as he continued to work on his back. "I think I'd missed a spot," he explained, licking and moving to the other side. 

It took a few moments for Dean to relax and let Sam do the work. He sure hoped he didn't fall asleep, but if he did, a good morning wake-up was fine with him. Suddenly he felt Sam's mouth on his nipple and he arched up with a gasp. "I don't think you gotta worry about me falling asleep," Dean said as he groaned while Sam worked on his nipple. His hand went up to behind Sam's head, lightly holding him there, but not wanting to interfere with anything Sam had in mind.

His hands still under Dean, Sam pulled them in opposite directions, starting from his spine, toward his sides, never letting up on the real massage as he teased and licked Dean's nipple. The sight of Dean's muscles tightening each time he sucked on his sensitive flesh affected Sam just as much as he was affecting Dean. Pulling off his nipple, he licked it one more time, then moved back and fitting his mouth over Dean's, kissed him until he was breathless. Straightening, he took a breath. "I might not have mentioned I have a thing for Spiderman..." most people would know exactly which scene he was referring to. It was something he'd wanted to try forever, but had no one to try it with.

"No you hadn't," Dean managed to get out, his lips still burning from the upside down kiss. 

He moved back to Dean's side and, adding a little oil to his hands, massaged one arm. When he got to Dean's fingers and had massaged each one separately, he lowered his head again and sucked his middle finger into his mouth, pulsing his tongue against it and sucking hard as he pulled off. 

Dean groaned as he imagined that mouth working on his cock. How could Sam be relaxing him so much while sending fire straight to his hardening cock? 

Giving a satisfied smile, Sam repeated the massage, this time of Dean's other arm, hand and fingers. He resisted the urge to nip him, and instead gently set his arm down and slowly worked on his abs and sides. He moved his hands very lightly over Dean's flesh, exploring it, admiring how good the man looked and felt. The circular motions of his hands started to move lower, threatening to go beyond the line of the bed sheets that were slung low across Dean's pelvis. He could see Dean's cock hardening, its outline so clear it was hard for Sam to concentrate. 

He pulled the sheets up to Dean's chest, to keep him warm, then ran his hand down the full length of his torso over the sheets, resting one directly over his groin. "Doing okay?" he asked, squeezing softly, then, keeping his hand pressed over Dean's cock, used his free hand to open up the sheets to reveal his leg. Almost reluctantly, he stopped playing with Dean's cock, and pouring some oil into his hands, started an intense massage of his leg, from thigh to ankle, and his foot. When he was done, he bent over and kissed along each of Dean's scars, wishing he could make the pain better. 

Dean wasn't sure if Sam was trying to drive him crazy, kill him with the teasing, melt him with the massaging, or just push him to grab Sam and pull him down and say screw the massage. The leg felt better and his cock just kept getting harder.

Sam moved to Dean's other leg, massaging it with the same vigor, but not as long, then he slid his hand up over Dean's cock again as he pulled the sheets over his leg. "Still interested... that's good. Let's just make certain," he said, bending down and kissing along Dean's hard length. He refused to think about Dex, about the discomfort, not now. Now he was in control, and Dean was letting him do what he wanted. What he wanted was to give this man everything he could, to enjoy him and be enjoyed by him. Pressing his mouth down just a little harder for a minute, he straightened. "If I weren't doing your back, I'd give you your happy moment now. It'll have to wait though. Turn over for me." 

Dean couldn't help but press up against that tempting mouth and groan. When Sam said he'd give him his happy moment, Dean took hold of his arm. "My happy moment would be to give us both pleasure, have both of us enjoy it. It's a me _and_ you thing, not just me." He did not want Sam to think he was just looking to have Sam get him off and then be done.

That said, Dean rolled onto his stomach, admittedly grateful to get some much needed pressure on his firm cock. 

As he started to massage Dean's neck, Sam bent down and spoke in his ear. "I know that." He kissed his ear and spoke again. "'Happy moment' is just a massage term... sort of. Some places you pay extra and you end with a bang. Figured you'd know that," he said, blowing his hot breath along the shell of Dean's ear one more time before lifting up to get more oil on his hands. He pulled the sheets down to Dean's ass and started to massage him in long strokes, from his tailbone up to his shoulders, finding all the knots and tense spots. The massage itself was very professionally given, except for the fact that Sam was leaning against the side of Dean's thigh, pressing his own own arousal against him, making sure the guy was aware of how hard he was too.

After Sam finished working on Dean's back, he pulled the sheets lower to reveal his ass and started to knead his cheeks. Once he had Dean relaxed, he started to touch him more sensually, his fingers slipping down to his inner thighs, stroking his balls lightly. He knew the instant Dean felt the change in his technique, saw how his ass cheeks clenched. "Relax," he whispered, bending down and skimming his mouth over Dean's ass, kissing him with his mouth open, and sucking on his flesh. He moved down to his thighs, kissing and licking him, pushing his legs apart so he could reach his balls and running his tongue over him.

"Okay. I think I got all of you. Any parts you want me to pay special attention to?" he asked, slapping Dean's ass lightly and starting to unbutton his over shirt.

Dean sighed contentedly. "Yeah, pretty much." Sitting up, he pushed himself to his feet. "Uh-uh. My turn." 

He guided Sam to sit on the bed. Dean lightly kissed him, then sucked his lower lip into his mouth before nipping it, following that with slow, deliberate kisses down the side of Sam's neck. He pulled the shirt open a bit and ran his tongue along Sam's collar bone. As he unbuttoned Sam's shirt, he took his time, kissing and licking his way down as each undone button revealed new flesh to suck on and torture. When all the buttons were undone, Dean spread Sam's legs and moved in between them. Leaning in, he began to work on Sam's nipples, tonguing and nipping, running his fingers over them and twisting before rubbing the sting away.

Sam leaned back and closed his eyes, allowing himself to be swept away by the onslaught of sensations vibrating through him as Dean kissed and licked and touched him. His indrawn breath was audible when he was pinched, and then a soft moan broke from him as Dean's thumbs rubbed his nipples. He opened his eyes, his stomach clenching at the heat he saw in Dean's. Licking his lips, he reached out and slid his hands up and down Dean's sides, finding it hard to just sit still and enjoy the attention the man was lavishing on him. 

"Lean back on your elbows," Dean told him. As soon as Sam did, Dean opened the button to Sam's jeans. He also had better access to Sam's belly button and began to toy with it with his tongue as he caressed Sam's arousal through his jeans. After he felt he'd tortured Sam long enough, he slid the zipper open and, pulling down the elastic band of Sam's briefs, saw the tip of Sam's leaking cock. Wasting no time, he leaned down and sucked Sam's tip into his mouth, tonguing his slit and lightly sucking on the crown.

"Jes..." Sam almost came off the mattress, practically sitting up again until he felt Dean's gentle push and slowly lowered back onto his elbows. His eyes were glued on Dean's mouth wrapped around his tip, teasing him, then on his tongue, watching, hoping for more touches as Dean flicked it over his tip. He found himself lifting his hips, urging Dean to take more of him, biting his lower lip when he did, but Dean sucked only on his tip. "Oh God... Dean, such a tease," he groaned. "You're already rocking my world, in case... in case that makes a difference," he said, breathlessly. 

Dean hooked his fingers in the belt loops of the jeans while never taking his mouth off of Sam's cock. He suddenly took about half of Sam in and as Sam bucked up, Dean yanked his pants down, taking Sam's underwear with them. He began to slide his mouth up and down Sam's cock as his hands continued to push Sam's pants down until Sam could lift his feet out of them. As soon as Sam was free of them, Dean began concentrating completely on Sam's cock and balls, licking and sucking and fingering and stroking.

The forceful yet gentle actions of this man were so damned sexy and at the same time made Sam feel safe, safe enough to relax completely, to give himself over without needing to think about moves and counter-moves and danger and avoidance. He watched himself disappear into the wet heat of Dean's mouth, watched Dean suck and lick him, touch him in ways he hadn't been in years. It touched him, that Dean looked like he enjoyed giving him pleasure. And there was so much of it, so much pleasure, little intense jolts lancing through him, making his skin stretch almost painfully tight around his fully aroused cock. "Ngh... God," he couldn't help himself, he lifted his hips, thrusting into Dean's mouth, and Dean just took it... took him without complaint, loved him. 

His breaths grew uneven, labored. His skin flushed with fever and grew so damned sensitive that every touch, each slip of Dean's side and thighs against his own inner thighs practically scorched him. "So good, so good Dean," he whispered hoarsely, barely able to keep his eyes open, but not wanting to miss a precious moment. "So damned good." Another deep moan broke from the back of his throat as Dean sucked hard, giving him the pressure he needed. He wondered if this was going to go on all night, or how long he could maintain this, stay on the edge.

Dean kept stroking Sam with his hand as he pulled off and looked into Sam's eyes. "I want to be in you. Do you want that too? I'll make it good, make it the best, I swear. But you can say no and that's okay." 

The slick, wet slide of Dean's hand over his cock had Sam unable to answer as a shudder of pure pleasure ripped through him. His gaze locked with Dean's, he tried to focus. Dean wanted to be inside him. His gaze dropped to Dean's swollen cock, then he looked back up, for the first time imagining having Dean inside himself. There was no fear, just the thrill of anticipation. "Yeah... okay. I'd like that too." Reaching out with one hand, he suddenly curled his fingers tightly around Dean's wrist. "Face to face." He paused, just to be sure he'd been heard, then released Dean's wrist and slid his hand up Dean's muscular arm. "The oil is over there." 

Dean chuckled softly. "Of course face to face. I want to see every look that crosses your face, I want to see it as I make you come completely undone."

Releasing Sam's cock, he motioned for Sam to get all the way on the bed as he retrieved the oil. He slid down between Sam's legs, his mouth returning to Sam's stiff cock, taking and swallowing the large cock down as Sam bucked up into his mouth. He hummed as he worked his mouth on him, delighting in every sound the man made, his hands rubbing and caressing Sam's hips. Pulling off of Sam's cock he nuzzled his balls, sucking on his tight sac lightly until he sucked one ball all the way into his mouth and ran his tongue around and around it. He released it only to suck in the other ball and do the same. Dancing his tongue down Sam's crack he lifted the man's legs, bending them and pushing them up, giving him access to tight puckered flesh he was craving. His hand returned to give Sam's cock a little pressure, teasing him and keeping him hard and leaking.

If Sam had to point to one thing that made Dean so damned endearing, it was his ability to laugh and play during sex. It completely disarmed Sam and put him at ease. Then again, the man's wicked mouth and hands had Sam tensing in all the good ways. His cock was so damned hard and stiff, it throbbed and ached. It was impossible for Sam to lay still so he stopped trying and allowed his body to take over. Moans spilled from his lips as he writhed and tried to fuck Dean's mouth, crying out when Dean pulled off him with a wet sound. "If you keep this up, I think you're going to see me undone much sooner than you think," he hissed the instant Dean sucked on his balls. "Holy..." His fingers closed around the bed sheets, his fists clenching tight as he pulled his legs back and felt Dean's hot wet tongue at his hole. 

Dean smiled at Sam's complaints, pleased that the man had finally relaxed and simply let go. That's what this was supposed to be about. Letting go of worries and stress and getting lost in the moment and the pleasure of the other. Maybe that was hokey-romantic, and Dean wasn't certain he would ever actually voice those thoughts, but that's the way he felt.

Continuing to tease him, Dean stroked his cock occasionally as he began to twist and prod his tongue into Sam's tight and tempting hole. If the man wasn't stretched, he vowed he would make sure to stretch him so this didn't hurt. A brief flicker in Sam's eyes when he mentioned the oil had made Dean pretty damned sure that bastard Dex took Sam whenever and however he pleased, without bothering to prepare him. The face-to-face comment only made him that much more certain.

He finally had to stop teasing Sam, long enough to get the oil open, and poured some along Sam's crack, on his fingers, and stroked his own hard as steel cock, groaning. Patience he told it firmly, but the ripple of pleasure made him groan again. Yeah he knew how Sam felt about being ready to come. He leaned over, again working his tongue inside Sam's hole, deeper and deeper. He could feel rougher tissue than what he knew should be there. Scars. The son-of-a-bitch had abused Sam so badly he had scarred him on the inside as well as the out. Carefully he slid one finger into Sam, keeping it in that ring of muscle even as he flicked his tongue repeatedly at the sensitive skin. He oiled that scar tissue, working on gently stretching it. He didn't know if it would cause Sam pain, but he would do what he could to try to prevent that. After thoroughly oiling all around Sam's hole, he slid his finger in beside his tongue, all the way in, gently probing and rubbing, getting Sam prepared for the larger invasion that would soon be entering him. 

Shudders of pleasure vibrated through Sam each time Dean pushed his tongue or finger inside him, slowly winding him up, making him want more. At first, he was watching what Dean was doing to him. Later, he started watching for glimpses of Dean's cock when Dean would rise up a little, or stroke himself. Unconsciously, he clenched tight around Dean's finger and tongue, the brush of Dean's finger along his prostate making his body thrum with need. "I'm... I'm alright, I can take you," he said, licking his lips, "this is good... I'm good." Lube had been untouched for years now, when he'd lived with Dex. He was sure this would feel good, that Dean would slide inside him, and he welcomed this invasion. "Just... I want to touch you first," he said, trying to push up onto his elbows. "Let me taste you too."

Dean loved every clench of Sam's muscles, heating pooling stronger in his groin, his cock leaking at the thought of soon being inside the velvety heat he knew was waiting for him. When Sam basically said he was ready, Dean was ready to just take him, but he knew he wanted to stretch the man more, even if he implied he didn't need it. Then Sam made his request and he groaned softly. He took a few deep breathes. Okay, he could do this. For Sam he could calm the hell down and wait. But he was going to make Sam pay just a little for it. He flicked his tongue a few more times inside Sam and looked up, pushing a second finger inside and curling them, watching Sam shudder and moan. He loved seeing the man thrash and writhe. He extracted his fingers and crawled up Sam's body until their cocks were side by side. He kissed Sam, thrusting against him, letting their oiled cocked slide smoothly beside each other while he fucked Sam's mouth with his tongue. When he finally had to take a breath, he looked into those hazel eyes and smiled. "Whatever you want, Baby." 

Laying down on Sam he rolled, pulling Sam on top of him. He'd done the fucking far more often than getting fucked, but if Sam wanted that, if he _needed_ that, Dean would let him. The man had practically had everything stripped from him. Innocence, love, tenderness, manhood, power, happiness...yeah, whatever Sam needed, he wanted to give to him.

"You can top if you want," Dean said, stroking the side of Sam's face. "I'm all yours."

Sam was moving against him, because he couldn't help it, because he needed the pressure, needed the slide of his cock against Dean's even as he listened to him, his lips parting in surprise. "If you were all mine..." _I'd keep you forever. I'd never let you go. I'd love you so hard you'd never doubt my feelings._ He couldn't say the words, wouldn't ruin the moment for Dean. "You're all mine," he nodded, and gave a smile, still thrusting against him lightly because he was afraid if he went too far, then he'd come before Dean was inside him. He wanted that experience. He wanted something to remember, to treasure, and to eclipse all his bad experiences. 

Fitting his mouth over Dean's, he plunged his tongue inside, moaning as he emulated the movements of his body, tongue fucking Dean as thoroughly as the man had shown him. His mouth burned, it was probably swollen, but it was good, so damned good. Only after he ran out of breath did he break the kiss. 

He moved down Dean's body, kissing and licking his throat and chest. Exploring him with his hands and mouth, loving how still he could hold, how much he could give. When he kissed his way along the indentation of Dean's hips down to his cock, he had to smile at the tightening of Dean's abs. He knew just how the man felt. Grasping Dean's hard cock, he inspected it for a moment, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth at the thought of Dean being inside him soon. He stroked Dean's cock, licking the steady precum off his tip and sucking his crown. He played with Dean a little longer, learning how he felt, how he tasted, clean and a little salty, just right. Opening his mouth wide, he took Dean's cock inside, sucking him only a few times before pulling off.

Dean loved the almost innocent touches Sam gave him as Sam explored his body as if he hadn't given him a full body massage and his hands hadn't already been there. But these touches were sensual, testing, seeing what Dean liked, what made him groan and moan in pleasure. Sam's kisses he recognized as trying to mimic his own, tasting and teasing the way Dean had done. When Sam took hold of his cock and just...studied it, he knew for certain. 

Sam had never been with anyone other than Dex. 

Maybe Dex had been loving in the beginning, but it was obvious those days had passed long ago and were all but forgotten by Sam. Feeling his cock in Sam's mouth he thrust and groaned. Damn that felt good. He was surprised when Sam had barely started and then stopped.

Crawling up Dean's body, Sam looked down into his face. "Just wanted to see and touch before you...." He licked his lips. "I'm all yours now. You can fuck me. No... I _want_ you to fuck me. I _want_ you to top," he said, starting to roll over to his back and holding Dean so he rolled with him.

Dean let Sam pull him over. Looking into Sam's face he asked, "He's been your only, hasn't he? You're a virgin as far as making love to anyone else, or having anyone else make love to you. And he stopped making love to you a long time ago." He could see it in Sam's eyes that he was right. He knew he could offer again to let Sam top, but he knew that wasn't what Sam needed. It was possible Sam had never topped before. Sam needed Dean to show him or to remind him, of what making love was really all about. Not forced sex. Not someone just grabbing you, throwing you down, and sating their needs with no care of your own needs or desires or wants.

"I'll make you forget him. Make you forget everything he ever did. If only for a little while, I'll make you forget," Dean promised him. With that promise he began to caress Sam's body, to gently kiss his cheeks, his closed eyes, his already well kissed lips. He simply ran his hands over Sam's flesh and kissed him over and over, all over his body, showing him what it meant to be treasured and that sex didn't have to be part of that. When he finally reached Sam's cock, it had softened a little, just as his own had, while he had been focusing on tenderness rather than arousal. He licked up Sam's cock and it took nothing at all to bring Sam hard again, his own cock swelling as well.

"You already have," Sam said shakily. It was true, right now, he couldn't see beyond Dean. Beyond this man who was loving every inch of him and putting him first. It couldn't get better than this, he was sure of it. Sure he couldn't be any harder, any needier. Sure he was going to start making demands if Dean continued to spoil him and touch him, and if he didn't push inside him soon. That's what he wanted, Dean, only Dean, inside him, taking him. Loving him, even for a short time. 

With some fresh oil, Dean lubed his cock, stroking it, making certain it was hard as possible, then turned back to Sam. He pushed an oiled finger inside him, then after a minute of finger fucking, slid in a second and began to scissor the man open, until he felt the man relax and inserted a third. He was determined to cause Sam as little pain as possible.

Sam kept his gaze focused on Dean's face. It helped him to remember to relax, to let him back inside his body. The insertion of a third finger had him flinching, but it was mostly because he hadn't expected it. The way Dean's gaze flicked to his, he knew what was going through the man's mind. "No, it's good," he said, taking a few breaths, making sure Dean understood he was fine. His heart was banging against his chest, his blood rushing faster and faster through his veins. He was about to ask Dean to take him now when Dean touched him again like before. He spasmed around Dean's fingers, a low moan breaking from deep inside his throat. He found himself trying to rock against Dean's fingers, trying to recreate that sensation. "Yeah... oh God... Dean..." he reached out and clutched Dean's shoulder, his fingers biting into him. "Please.... please fuck me. Just fuck me, want you... want you inside me," he pleaded, eyes begging Dean with equal fervor.

"Okay, shshsh, okay," Dean said, slowly pulling his fingers free. He moved closer to Sam's body, adjusting his cock so its head pressed against that well oiled and ready hole. "Relax for me, Sammy. I'm going to push in a little fast, just getting my cock past the opening okay? Then I'm gonna stop, let you adjust. I won't do anything until you're ready." It was going to kill him, he knew it, but he'd keep himself under control. He had to.

He began pushing in, giving steady pressure, but giving Sam a chance to stretch at the same time. He groaned, leaning forward, wanting to just bury himself in his lover. When he felt the crown reach the other side of that tight muscle, he trembled with need and desire but looked up to Sam's face. "You...you tell me when, okay?"

When the hard, blunt tip of Dean's cock pressed against his hole, Sam felt himself become covered by a sheen of sweat. Despite his trust, he was nervous, mostly by the possibility of shattering the sheer perfection of this moment. Dean's words, his reassurances, washed over him. The man was even telling him what to expect, as if this really were his first time ever. Sam's eyes misted with emotion, and then he was arching slightly as Dean pushed inside him. Teeth clenched together, he took the pain. Really, it was nowhere near what he usually suffered through and the more he relaxed, the better it got. Dean was half way inside him, when he stopped. Sam looked at him, his question dying on his lips when he saw naked desire in Dean's expression. He felt Dean trembling, realized that Dean was fighting his needs, controlling them, all for him.

For one long selfish moment, Sam kept Dean waiting. Studying him, telling himself that this was a real man, the kind of man Sam had dreamt of in his youth. The kind of man who would never take his pleasure at the cost of another's. He just knew, if he told Dean to withdraw right now, Dean would. That thought had Sam clenching around Dean, drawing him a little deeper. "Now, now Dean," he whispered, giving the man a smile. "You don't have to wait, just push in, I can take it, I swear," he said, lifting his hips to make his point.

Dean swallowed his groan as Sam clenched around his needy cock and when he lifted his hips, it took everything Dean had not to do what Sam said and just drive in. He pushed in steady, just as he had to start with, pausing a little to give Sam a chance to adjust before moving deeper. When he was finally pressed up against Sam, completely buried in him, he was covered with a sheen of sweat. He leaned forward, trapping Sam's cock between their bodies as he began to kiss Sam fervently. He gave small little thrusts, rubbing over Sam's cock and getting used to the feel of being inside Sam and letting Sam get used to him, moaning into Sam's mouth as he felt the thrill of Sam's wet heat wrapped around him.

There was a little more discomfort as Sam was stretched wider until Dean finally sank all the way inside, filling him. His soft groan was muffled by Dean's mouth which descended over his own. Eagerly, he parted his lips and thrust his tongue out, entwining it with Dean's, kissing back like he was starved for Dean's affection. He felt the press of Dean's body against his cock, rubbing, exciting him, making him want... making him need to thrust against Dean. Dean was still holding back, still taking care of him like he'd break, still treating him like a virgin and that had Sam smiling against Dean's lips. 

Sam's hands roved over Dean's back, exploring him and moving down over his ass. He ran his fingers tips over Dean's cheeks, lightly at first, but with increasing pressure as his own needs started to intensify. He moved lower, his fingertips now rubbing Dean's sac as he lifted his own hips, forcing Dean's shallow thrusts deeper. His entire body clenched, his inner walls closing around Dean's cock, like he was never going to let this man go. He didn't want to. Maybe not ever.  
He broke the kiss and moved his mouth across Dean's throat, rocking against him a little harder. "I don't break easy. Dean... take me how you want. I want that. I _really_ want that," he whispered against smooth skin, lingering over Dean's Adam's apple and feeling it convulse. 

Sam's words, the way he clenched so tightly around him, had Dean tensing and need lit his blood like a wildfire.

Dean began to pull out a little more each time, making sure to angle to hit the man's prostate on both the in and out strokes as he began to piston in harder and faster. It felt so good, so fucking good. His leg ached from the strain, but the pleasure far outweighed that. He kept as much pressure on Sam's cock as he could, trying to make it the best he could, trying to truly rock Sam's world.

Every thrust, every press of Dean's body against his own, each time Dean pulled partway out and slammed back inside him, Sam was just a little more consumed by need. He matched Dean's movements, bucking harder and harder against him, letting out moans of pleasure to let him know exactly how good this was, how much he needed Dean to keep going. "Ungh... oh God, fuck," he gripped Dean's hips, lifting up, wanting to take more but not sure how. He was getting desperate and in his desperation, barely thinking, he lifted his legs and locked them around Dean's waist. Suddenly, Dean was penetrating him deeper, so fucking deep that flashes of white flared behind Sam's eyes lids. "Good, s'good, Dean," he said, his words broken up by harsh breaths. He used his legs to help Dean, to propel him harder and faster, until he couldn't think anymore, until there was only this... Dean and himself and the sensations lancing through his body, pushing him to the very edge. He ran his hands over Dean's back and arms, his fingers biting into Dean now and again. 

Being pulled in so deep into Sam had Dean practically convulsing with pleasure. Sounds he hadn't heard himself make in so long spilled from him. "Fuck, yeah, yeah," Dean encouraged. "Oh, God, yes," he said feeling Sam's desperate touches that made his need sky-rocket. "Ungh," was about all he could say as he chased harder and harder to find his release, burying himself over and over in his lover.

"Close," Sam declared, lifting his head and locking his mouth with Dean's, kissing him, loving him back with everything he had, not wanting him to hold back anything. Having figured out when clenching his inner muscles gave Dean the most pleasure, he started to follow a rhythm, loving the sounds that he was drawing from Dean. _Yes.Yes.Yes._ Harder, and faster, they kept going, kept moving, until Sam felt his body stiffen, his balls tightening until they were painful. "Ngh.... Dean!" he practically shouted as he came hard, his hot cum exploding across their stomachs, making them glide against each other. Determined to take Dean with him, Sam clenched around his cock, forcing Dean to be just a little rougher, just a little wilder, pushing him over the edge too. 

Feeling Sam begin to work him, to find a rhythm, was driving Dean higher and higher. When he felt Sam stiffen, he pounded again and again on Sam's prostate and felt the warmth spread between them. Sam calling his name out with such ecstasy is what sent Dean spiraling out of control though. "C'mon, baby, c'mon," Dean murmured, riding Sam harder until it all slammed into him like a freight train. His whole body locked up as the cum spewed from him, filling Sam up and then some. "Sammy!" he practically screamed as nothing but white light filled his vision. When his body finally relaxed, he rode out the waves of orgasm, feeling Sam milking his cock until there was nothing left in him. Finally he collapsed heavily onto Sam. 

"Oh my God," Dean panted. "That was...you were...holy fuck..."

A deep, satisfied grunt was all Sam managed, as he gathered Dean to him, one hand on his back, the other at the back of his head, running through his hair and over the nape of his neck. He couldn't stop touching him and though he dropped his legs from Dean's waist, he had them wrapped around Dean's legs and was slowly moving against him still. "The earth shook... it did," Sam said breathlessly, skimming his mouth across the corner of Dean's. "Off the Richer scale... clear off." He held him tight, knowing Dean might not want someone to cling to him now, but needing the closeness and determined to hang onto it for as long as Dean would allow. 

"I...," Sam licked his lips. "I know what you did for me. Waiting," he trailed patterns down Dean's back. "You're a good guy Dean." He nuzzled Dean's neck. "I didn't think it could be like this. Not for real, you know, maybe in the movies or books. That guy who made you straddle the fence, I owe him big. I'd buy him a beer, if I weren't a little jealous." There was a short silence. "You called me 'Sammy.'" 

"I'm freaking awesome," Dean teased, but then ran his fingers through Sam's damp hair and grew more serious. "Yeah, yeah it can be like this. Not always, I mean, I would figure in a relationship or something it can't always be perfect, or y'know, after a couple years, probably only rock the state instead of the world." Dean sighed contentedly as Sam worked on his neck. It felt damned good. Hell, he felt damned good, aching leg and all. "Yeah, 'Sammy' just kinda feels right for you, innocent, gorgeous, awesome in bed...it bug you?"

_"Come here Sammy-boy. Get over here, don't make me ask twice," Dexter slurred._

"No. Not coming from _you_ , it doesn't," he said, truthfully. "I'm not any of those things but you're the best damned flirt I've ever met. You make everyone feel this good?" he asked, his head jerking up. "I didn't mean sex, I meant... never mind," he gave a small laugh and felt Dean shifting around. "You trying to get loose?" He still didn't release Dean.

"Okay, if you don't like gorgeous, about sizzling hot? And Dude, I know when someone is good in bed. And you are. Innocent?" He kissed Sam. "As far as I'm concerned you are." He chuckled then, "Do I make everyone feel this good? I am the master of feel-good. Go ahead, ask anyone. They'll tell you I'm a grumpy bastard who is a nutcase and has been known to drink too much and apparently when I do, I think I'm the best damned singer in the world and try to prove it. Dogs must agree since they howl when I sing." He saw the concern touch Sam's eyes when he said he drank. "With the drugs I take for this leg, I don't get toasted often and when I do, I generally just drink until I pass out. I don't get violent."

Dean squirmed a little, "I am only trying to get loose so I can pull out and you can then curl up in my arms. Or I can just lay on top of you all night if you want." 

There was no reason for Dean to lie to him about the drinking, or even to have brought it up. Sam believed him, that he didn't have a problem. "I'll bet you sound like... I dunno, Bryan Adams," he guessed, slowly untangling his legs and letting Dean pull out of him. He rolled Dean over and put his hands on top of each other on Dean's chest, resting his chin over them, and watching Dean. "I'll stay for a while. I don't wanna fall asleep though, don't want Em to wake up alone and come looking." He kissed Dean's nipple, then his jaw, then brushed his mouth over Dean's, smiling when Dean's tongue instantly came out to play. 

"I don't think you're grumpy," he said, after he'd had his fill and rested his chin again. "I think you like to pretend. It's a pretty good act, though. I bought it the night you brought us home. But when I see you with Em..." He chuckled. "Dude, you're a total pushover."

"I am not a pushover!" Dean protested. "And who says it's an act? I am a grumpy bastard." Stroking Sam's back he asked, "You're pretty nervous about her seeing you and me together, like not wanting her to see us kiss. I mean I get this," he said indicating their current situation with a wave of his hand. "Kids, naked daddy in bed with someone else, not really an ideal thing. Do you always sleep with her? To protect her, I'm guessing?" Okay, Dean felt a little foolish being jealous over a six year old kid, but he kinda wanted Sam with him, kinda wanted to be able to wake up in the morning with someone beside him.

"Hmm? No, it's not like that." Sam snuggled closer. "You keep kissing me in front of her, you risk hearing 'Dean and daddy sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g...' and believe me, it'll be at the worst possible time." He gave a small laugh. "And no, I don't always sleep with her. In Vermont, she had her own room. Back home, she stayed in her own room, alone mostly. It was better that way, in case he came home drunk or stoned. Last thing I'd want is for him to come to her room to get me." He kissed Dean's chest. "When we're on the road, I stay with her. Strange places, motels, the famous Winchester Bed and Breakfast. She'll expect me to be there in the morning, that's all. If I'd told her before she went to sleep, then it would be alright." Surprisingly, his daughter was not afraid of the dark or to be alone. Still, he'd left the lights on downstairs just in case she woke. "Course there'd always be the risk of her joining us. You don't scare her," he pointed out. "So yeah, I'd need to keep an ear out for her cause naked would not be a good idea." 

Dean was sort of relieved. The two weren't glued together at the hip, so maybe he could get Sam to himself tomorrow night. Admittedly, he cringed a bit at the idea of her singing that, especially in front of anyone from town. It wasn't widely known he swung either way and certainly no one in town knew it. Sam and Emily would be moving on after Christmas and...okay, that sucked...and he didn't want the knowledge he was bi out if he could avoid it. He wasn't ashamed of it, he wouldn't care if he were in a relationship, but people...he just didn't want to deal with it if he didn't have to. "I don't scare her...that's a good thing but maybe a little inconvenient for us."

Sam laughed. "A little." In all honesty, Sam wouldn't want her seeing him in bed with people, but he also knew that once they were on the road, and settled down somewhere else, it was hardly likely he'd even be seeing anyone. Even if he saw people, he'd never bring a string of them through his house or let her see him with occasional boyfriends. Maybe it was a good thing he wasn't real interested in that. Dean was, he was different, a once in a lifetime thing. Sam had given up a lot of things, but this one, this, he was hanging onto for as long as he could. "Now go to sleep. Or I'll think I didn't give you enough of a work out. I'll stay until you do, if you want," he offered.

"Yeah...yeah, I'd like it if you stayed," Dean said, holding him close. He kissed Sam's head. "G'night, Sammy."

"G'night grumpy," he smiled, and rested his head, pulling his hand away so his face was directly on Dean's chest and he could listen to the strong, steady beats of his heart.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean had taken a long, hot shower when he got up. His body ached from the sex they'd had last night, using muscles that he typically didn't use anymore, and that made him chuckle sadly to himself. Dean Winchester, ladies’ man, hadn't been laid since July. In part it was because of his leg, in part it was because he didn't want to piss in his own back yard. It's not like he could love 'em and leave 'em anymore. This was his life, this was his town now, and he couldn't go around laying any pretty girl because he'd still be there in the morning and they'd expect him to come back, and to call, and have a 'relationship.' He hadn't wanted that. Maybe he still wanted to pretend he was a hunter on the road, killing whatever monster came up next and then moving on. Maybe he didn't want to have some of the locals get that close, have a girl come out to his place, figure out he really was nuts and then...then the people of the town might turn on him instead of kind of looking out for him. The sheriff, she knew about monsters, about all the things Bobby had done to protect the town, but he didn't think anyone else did. The sheriff was kind of hot, but she was married. She knew Dean had taken over Bobby's 'job' and looked the other way on all sorts of things because she got it.

Shit. He was gonna miss Sam and the kid. Course, hell, given a couple weeks, he might be ready to toss them out, or they might have had enough of him. Probably for the best he told himself and tried to believe it. They hardly knew each other. They'd only been there for going on four days now. It was just having company, he told himself. Having company that wasn't a couple hunters who only made him reminisce about the 'old' days and reminded him Bobby was gone and that he was less able to do the things he once used to so easily do. Having company that wasn't there as a nurse or doctor, or a good hearted neighbor come to help him for an hour or two, either because they were paid to be there, or because 'Bobby was an okay guy' and they wanted to pay back some debt or slight or to ease their conscience or something.

Dean finally got out of the shower and dressed, taking one of his pain pills. He'd be damned if he'd let Sam know he ached from the sex. Unless it meant he was gonna get another massage. Oh yeah, he was gonna miss Sam for more than just the company. He was a little surprised to realize though that even if Sam never gave him another massage...he'd still miss the guy. He liked him. The two made him laugh, made him want to make them smile and laugh too.

Jesus he was getting soft. He needed to work out, maybe that would help clear his head a little of all the romantic chick-flick crap trying hard to worm its way in.

He finally headed downstairs, the stairs not hurting his leg like he thought they were going to. He saw Emily sitting on the bottom couple stairs with her back hunched over. He came down and around her. The girl looked sad and upset.

"Hey, Em, what's wrong kiddo? Sammy won't let you go play in the snow? Rummy run off to chase a rabbit?" Dean settled down beside her, wincing as he bent his knee. The pain medication better start kicking in soon or Sam was gonna know.

She looked first at Dean's long leg stretched out in front of them, then up at him as she pushed her hair behind her ear and shook her head. "No. Rummy's eating breakfast," she said. "Is daddy in trouble?"  
Dean furrowed his brow. There were a lot of dangerous answers to that. _Yeah, kid, he kidnapped you and took you across state lines, he's got a car that doesn't work, an abusing drug dealer-gang leader on his ass, and no money._ "Why would you think your dad's in trouble?" 

Swallowing, she looked toward the kitchen, then back at Dean. "I saw him crying. He never cries, not even when... when it hurts," she said, closing her eyes. "Not even when he went to the hospital because of me."

Dean put his arm around her thin shoulders. "What do you mean he went to the hospital because of you?"

She started to rock back and forth a little as she struggled for words. "Papa was saying something and I didn't listen. I don't know what he was saying," she whispered, her breaths coming a little louder as she tried not to cry. "Then he threw," her hands went up in the air in a throwing motion, "a wood thing and daddy, he went in front of me." Her eyes filled with tears, "and papa stepped on it and ... and..." she gripped her shirt at over her stomach. "Daddy bleeded and bleeded and... he didn't cry," she looked up. "But I did and... why is he crying now?" She sniffed and tried not to cry.  
"Pappas aren't supposed to throw things at their kids, especially not things that hurt. Even if you weren't listening, your papa did a very bad thing. Pappas and daddies both are supposed to protect their kids." He hugged Emily closer to him and kissed her hair. "Now you don't be sad or scared. I'll take care of this. I'll make sure everything is okay with your daddy. Sometimes people cry when they're happy and sometimes it can be hard to tell that that's the reason they're crying. Maybe he's happy knowing your car will be fixed, or because you have a nice warm place to stay until it is... Emily do you know your papa’s last name?" 

Her eyes never left Dean's as he spoke though she was listening for sounds from the kitchen and she gave him a hug. "Okay," she shook her head, and then answered. "Smith. S-m-i-t-h. Smith."

Dean's brow lifted in surprise. It really was Smith? That was almost ironic. "Okay, Em, why don't you go color? Make a pretty picture for me. I don't have a good picture of Rumsfeld. Maybe you could do one of you and Rummy playing. I'm gonna go make sure your daddy's happy and not sad, and if he's sad, I'll try to make him happy, okay?"

He was a little surprised by the sudden kiss on his cheek, but then the girl dashed over to the coffee table and pulled out her crayons as if by doing what Dean said Dean could magically make everything better like a fairy godmother or something. He hoped he could make everything better, for both of them.

Pushing himself to his feet, he walked into the kitchen to find Sam at the stove. Coming up behind Sam, he wrapped his arms around his waist as he kissed him on the neck. "Morning, Good-Looking. How are you this morning?" 

"Mmm... good," Sam said leaning back against Dean and enjoying being held. Letting the wooden stirring spoon go, he turned in Dean's arms and kissed him on the mouth. "Thought I better get that out of the way while the imp is watching TV," he said smiling. "You? I didn't give you a backache or anything, did I," he joked, and then leaned in a little more. "You always smell good, what's you secret?" It was true, even when Dean came out of the garage and had oil and other things on him.

"The imp is coloring some pictures for me. No, I'm feeling pretty damned awesome." He chuckled. "It's just my natural, handsome-me smell. Probably comes from eating all that pie or just being too damned adorable." Dean kissed him again then studied his face. "Your eyes, you've been crying. Don't try to deny it. I got magic on my side. So what's going on in that gorgeous head of yours?" 

Sam cocked his head, a denial was hot on the tip of his tongue but something in the way Dean was looking at him stopped him. "It's nothing. Just, you know, stupid stuff." If he thought that would cut off the questions, he was wrong. Dean was still in his space, still touching him and silently waiting on an answer.   
"Just got to thinking a little, about wasted time and missed opportunities. A little ... you know, wishing things had been different, different choices. Like I said, it's nothing." Putting his arms around Dean, he gave him a slow, lingering kiss, trying to reassure him. It was true, he had cried, but it wasn't anything specific. Mostly last night had shown him the things he'd missed out on and made him second guess. He should have taken Emily a long, long time ago. Maybe by now he would have been settled down with someone like Dean, though he was pretty sure the guy was rare and original.   
"Okay Mr. too-damned-adorable, why don't you get yourself some coffee, and pour me some more. We're not having a fancy breakfast this morning. Just oatmeal and bacon for you meat lover types," he meant both Dean and Emily. "Damn... you're right, you really are adorable." 

"Mmmm, kisses like that will get you trouble." He held onto Sam just a little longer. "Everyone has regrets, Sam, everyone. Everyone makes mistakes, big ones, little ones. You have to look at the good stuff or...or you'll live your life in a bottle, or just wanna blow your brains out, y'know? Can't change the past. Gotta look ahead, and I'll make sure you have those new identities and a fresh life, a safe life, and it's gonna get better from here on out. Promise." He sealed that promise with a kiss then finally let Sam go and got them both some coffee like Sam had asked.

***

Over the next two days, Sam found that they had fallen into a very nice, very normal routine. Before breakfast or after, he'd help Dean with his exercises for his leg and hip. After that, Dean would go off to work on cars or to tow them, and he'd be in and out to handle the phones if he had things going on in the 'hunting business' end of things. 

Sometime in the late morning, Sam would drop Emily off at the neighbor's for day care. Seeing as he wasn't paying, he made sure to help out with things that were broken and even got started on building some shelving for Miss Lacey so the kids would have a good place to store their toys and books. Sam hadn't seen Emily happier, not even when they'd made a good life for themselves during their short respite in Vermont, when she'd been able to go to school and have a normal life. He was determined to give that to her again, though he had a feeling she'd really miss Dean and Rumsfeld. Hell, sometimes when she and Dean took off to the garage together, Sam felt left out. They were as thick as thieves and very often ganged up against him, so he had to watch his back, he told them.   
Work was going pretty good. He was earning money and the owner of the salon had asked if he might be interested in a more permanent gig. She had an option to lease a little additional space and was thinking of expanding to add massage and facial services, now that she saw people were interested. It had really hurt, having to say he probably wasn't going to be around too long past New Year's. Dean had made a lot of progress with the Impala.

They had a Christmas tree up now. True to his word, Sam had gone and cut a tree down. He'd bought some ornaments from the second hand store and they'd decorated the tree up. He'd also found some real nice picture frames for the pictures he'd seen in Dean's desk drawer, and figured he'd frame them and give them to Dean for Christmas. Dean had been a little grumpy about how he'd reorganized the books but once he'd figured out Sam's system, he'd been fine with it. Sam figured his digging around in the drawer with the pictures thing wouldn't be a big deal, either. Under his gruffness, Dean had the patience of a saint.   
Unless he phoned, the agreement was that Dean would pick Emily up and take her home. _Home._ Dean's place sure had the feeling of a real home, it was going to be hard giving it... to give Dean up. Sam only hoped he didn't make a fool of himself when the time came. God, he never felt as protected, as safe as when he was in that man's arms. And he might be a damned romantic, but yeah, he pretty much felt loved. Loved for real. Course the logical side of him decided that's how Dean was, he probably loved a lot of people 'in the moment' and made them feel like the center of his world. Right now, Sam and Em were basking in it. He wasn't about to waste it just because it was temporary, no way. 

It hadn't taken him long to fall for Dean. It wasn't about the house, or the dog, or the fact that he was living the life he'd dreamed about. It was about the man, Dean, the way he made Sam feel when he was around. Like his world was complete. He'd asked whether there was a chance Dean might come out and visit them some time when he and Emily settled down and Dean had said 'probably.' What he'd really wanted to ask, what had been at the tip of his tongue was an invitation to join them, to go with them, be with them permanently. But how could he ask a man with an established life and work to go on the run? It wouldn't be fair. And Dean's refusal would've crush him, so he'd chickened out.

Dean's friend, the hairstylist, she'd quickly figured out he had a crush on Dean. Sam had tried to get her off track but it had been impossible. Of course he didn't give her the details, didn't tell her he spent his nights in Dean's arms, and woke in his bed. No, he let her think Dean was just his impossible dream, and in some ways, it was true or would be soon enough. 

It was Christmas Eve today, and the salon was closing at 1:30. He'd called and left Dean a message that he was going to make a final run to the grocery store and that he'd pick up Em on his way home. No doubt Emily would be excited about Christmas and bug them about presents and about opening them and asking what time she could get up. Thinking about Dean's face once he had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of a kid bouncing around the night before, Sam gave a chuckle. It would be as good as the time they'd been watching TV and Emily had suddenly gotten up behind Dean, sat down on the back of the couch and started brushing his hair. He'd never seen anyone so damned shocked, and while Dean had drawn the line at letting her put barrettes in, he hadn't said a word about the brushing and had just held Sam's hand. If he hadn't been in love with the man before, that... that had taken Sam's heart.

* * *

It had been a strange, though pleasant, past couple days for Dean. Once the tree was up, he had placed a couple of the presents he had purchased for Emily under the tree, but saved a few because Santa had to bring her a couple after all. He'd seen Sam eyeing the present with his name on it and even caught the guy picking it up and trying to figure out what it was. Course he had to do the same thing when he discovered some presents for him under the tree too. Bobby usually got him a couple skin mags and some candy bars, and maybe some fast food gift cards, and he usually got Bobby a bottle of whiskey or a case of beer. That was providing he was in the area of course. He and his dad had usually just gotten some beer and watched TV. He hadn't ever had a Christmas like this, with a real tree and lights and decorations. He secretly couldn't wait for the sun to set every day so he could turn on the lights and watch them blink and flicker in the windows and on the Christmas tree. Emily had insisted Dean make a couple ornaments for the tree so he had drawn a pentagram, a burning candle, and a snowman, Emily helping him paste the pictures on some cardboard. Vaguely he remembered how to make snowflakes by folding up paper and cutting out parts of the paper. Emily had been thrilled to learn how to do them and they now had paper snowflakes taped in just about every window. 

Dean was even happier when he received the new identification papers for Sam and Emily and wrapped them up. Sam was now Jonathan Samuel Campbell, and Emily was Mary Emily Campbell with her birthday February 12th instead of March 2nd, and with the mother listed as Deana Campbell who had died giving birth. Deana Campbell had her own history created as well, there were school records for both Deana and 'Jon', a marriage license, the whole nine yards. The birth certificate was from Denver, Colorado and so was Sam's new driver's license. He had new social security numbers for them both too. He was so damned excited he could hardly wait for Sam to open the package on Christmas morning. 

Sam would have that new life, and Dean had decided he would give Sam the small pickup truck he had. It got great gas mileage, had a cover on the back which would make it easy for Sam to travel with his massage table. It was an extended cab, and Dean had adjusted the seat so it would slide back further, accommodating Sam's long legs. The engine was practically new and he had gotten Colorado tags for it with the registration in Sam's name. The tags ought to be arriving shortly after Christmas. Yeah, he was still working on the Impala, but it was sort of a distinct car, one people might remember. No one would think twice about or remember a tan pickup. The keys were already wrapped in a box and under the tree. There was no denying that he was probably about as excited about Christmas as Emily. He tried not to think about the fact Sam and Emily would be moving on soon. He would visit them though and Christmas, well they'd just have to do Christmas every year, that's all there was to it.

He was working on the Impala when his cell phone rang. It was probably Sam double checking the grocery list or something, he thought, answering the phone without even looking at the name. "Yeah."

Dean was startled when he heard Lacey's voice. "Dean, Emily isn't making any sense. We'd gone on a short field trip to see Santa, and then stopped at McDonalds on the way back. Just as we were leaving, she started crying and holding onto me and kept repeating 'it's him.' I had six other kids to watch out for and we were walking from McDonalds so I had to wait until we got back, but she hasn't calmed down. She still isn't making any sense and Sam was supposed to be here by now to pick her up. He hasn't called to say he'd be late."

Dean felt his blood ice. "Let me speak to Emily."

"I want my daddy, I want my daddy, _he's_ here. I sawed his car. I want my daddy," she cried, refusing to hold the phone but speaking into the mouthpiece Miss Lacey held to her cheek. 

"Emily, it's going to be okay. I'm gonna call Sam now, okay? You're safe there. Dex doesn't know where you are. Just calm down and stay with Miss Lacey." 

Still carrying Emily, Lacey put the phone to her own ear and spoke loudly so Dean could hear her over the crying. "What's the matter? Do you want me to do anything?"

"Sam's ex must be in town. Do not admit to anyone she's there, don't let anyone but me or Sam pick her up. I'll be there as soon as I can, but I gotta check on Sam. Just try to reassure her she's safe and I'm coming for her soon. If you see anyone stop and you don't know them, hide Emily. I'll explain when I get there. Okay?"  
There was a brief hesitation. "Alright. I'll see you. Kids, inside, everyone in, right now."

Dean ended the call then speed dialed Sam. "C'mon, c'mon, pick up" Dean muttered as he pulled his keys out of his pocket and headed for the old beat up mustang he had sitting in the yard. It looked like crap on the outside, but if you lifted the hood, it was all muscle. The call clicked over to messages. "Sam, call me when you get this. As soon as you get this."

He slid into the Mustang and started it up, the car sounding like a Persian cat, absolutely purring. He scrolled through his phone numbers list until he found the salon and dialed it.

"Donna Lee, it's Dean. I need to speak to Sam, right now."

"Dean! Two guys came in and practically dragged Sam out by his hair! The cops are on their way," the woman said, clearly distraught.

"Car, what type?" Dean snapped.

"It was silver, large, newer, New York plates. We think it was a Cadillac. They headed north."

Dean practically burned rubber as he spun the car around and headed towards town, his mind racing as to where someone could take and hide someone on the north side of town. "I'm coming Sam, I'll find you. And Dex is gonna be one sorry S.O.B."

***

Fuck. His head hurt. Sam opened his eyes and found he was in complete darkness and his body was being jostled around, over uncomfortable lumps. Then it all came rushing back. Dex and Jack had walked into the salon and grabbed him. He'd tried to fight them, he'd gotten a few punches in because he knew this was different. This could be the end, and Emily wasn't there for Dex to control him with. But in the end, it was the same as it always had been. Dex won. He always fucking won.  
His heart knocked against his chest as he banged his hands against the lid of the trunk and then tried to kick out the lights or find some other way to get out of this small space or to indicate he was in here. Nothing worked, nothing. He took a few deep breaths and tried to think, what would Dean do? What would Dean expect him to do? Phone. 

He rolled to the side and fumbled in his pocket and found it. It took a couple tries, but he punched the right buttons and it was ringing. "I'm in the trunk of his car, don't know where. Dean, get Emily... get her out. Fuck... car's slowing. Please... take Em... take her."

"Sam!" Relief filled Dean, even knowing Sam was in that bastard's hands. "I'm hunting for you now. Emily is safely hidden away. They won't find her. I swear. Leave the phone on, try to give me some clues of what you see. I'll mute this end so they won't hear anything. I'll get you out."

Hearing three car doors slam one after the other, Sam barely had enough time to slip the phone into his jacket pocket and close his eyes. The sound of the key and the trunk popping sent ice through his veins. He didn't want to see him, didn't want to look at Dexter again, didn't want this to be real. Guess he was about to be reminded, _this_ was his real life, the last few days were just a fantastic dream.

Dex reached in and dragged Sam out of the trunk, not caring if Sam's body got scraped up or bruised in the process. When Sam was out, on his hands and knees on the snow covered pavement, Dex planted a solid kick in Sam's side. "You fucking bitch," Dex snarled. "Should have learned your lesson in Vermont. No one leaves me, cunt, not unless I say." Grabbing Sam's collar he pulled Sam up enough that he could plant a fist in his face, then did it a second time. "Where's the little bitch, Sammy-boy? I want her back.

Fingers burning from the ice, Sam crawled away from the danger of Dex's booted feet and looked up. There was a gray building, concrete, with broken glass. He read the dilapidated sign as he got up and spat blood onto the snow. "What is this place? Hospit-" 

He didn't get far before he was dragged back by Dex. He braced and raised his arm to protect his face, but was struck in the gut so hard he was propelled back to the ground. Giving a pained grunt, he grabbed his side with both hands and rolled over onto his stomach, making himself take shallow breaths. "You don't think the police will find this place? Construction sites are the first place they look," he forced out. 

Dex waved at Jack and Dominic. Sam was pulled up, his arms twisted behind him, and Dex planted a solid fist in his stomach. "You think someone's actually going to look for you, you pathetic piece of shit? The cops don't know you, they don't give a damned about you. No one gives a damned about you." He motioned his boys to take Sam into the old hospital that was being torn down.

As soon as they found a chair, Sam was cuffed, his arms behind his back, his legs tied with rope. Dex ran a hand along the bruise forming on the side of Sam's face. "I don't understand you Sammy-boy. I took you in. I gave you everything. Clothes, a roof over your head, food, even gave you a kid. You didn't keep the house clean, dinner was late, cold or crap... You know, some of my boys have wanted to get a taste of that sweet ass of yours. I think when we get back, maybe I'll let them have at you all they want. Unless you tell me where the kid is. Give me the kid, and I'll keep 'em off you. Even make sure the brat has clothes for school and money for lunches. How's that for a deal Sammy? Kid is taken care of, you're protected." Dex leaned down and looked into Sam's face. "So where is my sweet little Emily?"

"Gone. She's gone." Sam pulled his head as far back as he could but Dex was right there, gloating over the marks he'd left. "Gave her..." he licked his lips clean of blood and cringed at the vicious look in Dex's cold blue eyes. "Gave her to people who can take care of her, better than me." The metal of the cuffs bit into his wrists as he desperately tried to free himself. He'd never been tied down before and it made him feel more powerless and vulnerable than ever before. "C'mon man, you want me, you got me." 

"Oh, I have you," Dex backhanded him. "But I'm going to find Emily. I think I'll start here, in this little town of yours. Find out where you've been holed up at and burn it to the ground. And that pretty little salon you were working in. Think something bad might happen to it and the people who work there. I'm betting someone around knows where that kid is. You wouldn't dump her." He grabbed hold of Sam's chin, squeezing painfully. "I know you. You couldn't give that girl up." He grinned then. "Besides, the diner remembered you and the little bitch. So I _know_ she's here."

Sam's pained groans echoed off the walls but the three men in the room were deaf to the sounds. The pressure on both sides of his face threatened to unhinge his jaw and made it almost impossible to speak clearly. "Car broke. Had no money. No choice. Couldn't keep her," a sob broke out of him. "Not if I wanted her to live. I swear--"  
"Dex, we can't hang out here for long. Small town, they know the car."

Jack nodded at Dom. "Pull the car into the garage, at least get if off the street. Might be better to just get him home and work him over there," he suggested, more cautiously.

"We're not leaving without her!" Dex snarled at his two men. "She's in this fucking town and we're going to find her!" He finally released Sam's jaw. Looking at Dominic he gave a nod. "Get the car hidden, but drive around the lot, make it look like some kid was just having fun doing circles in the snow."

Dominic glanced at Jack, then headed out to get the car. Both of them were of the opinion Sam and the kid were nothing but trouble but no one argued with the boss. Not if they didn't want to end up face down somewhere.

"Let's try this again Sammy-boy." His eyes darkened and it was clear he was done with Sam bull-shitting him. "Where. Is. She?" 

He didn't know if the phone had stayed on or broken when Dex had slammed him onto the ground outside. He had no idea whether Dean had heard him say hospital. There was a real good chance he wouldn't find him, or wouldn't find him in time. But Sam had to trust that whatever happened to him, Dean would keep Emily safe. And that little thing... it freed him. He made a face, and it Goddamned hurt, but he made it anyway. "Fuck... are you trying to kill me with bad breath? And your teeth. Jesus, you make a vampire look good and trust me, not a compliment."

"I think you knocked his head too hard," Jack said, coming closer to see what the hell was going on. 

Dex stared at Sam as if he'd turned purple or something. The boy never back talked him. He groveled. He knew his place. Or had until he'd gone to the hospital because of one God damned little incident. It was like his little servant/slave/bitch grew a spine. And now? Now it was like he even grew a pair. _That_ was something he could easily remedy. He didn't give a shit if Sam ever got off, so long as he had a mouth and an ass to fuck, that was good enough. 

Back-fisting Sam, Dex snarled, "You talk to me like that again you little slut and when I find Emily, I think maybe it's time she got to know the camera. There's a couple dealers I work with that peddle flesh. She's a pretty little thing, now isn't she. Bet she'd bring in a pretty penny."

It was weird. You got struck in the same place often enough, you almost got numb to the pain. Right now, all Sam could feel was liquid sliding down from his nose, over his mouth and dripping to his clothes. "See you in hell first. I'll see you in hell," he said, laughing or sobbing, or maybe it was both. The look in Dex's eyes had him laughing louder. Dead was dead anyway, so he thought he might as well take whatever morbid pleasure he could out of the moment.

*

As soon as Dean heard 'hospit' from Sam and 'construction site', he was certain where the bastard had taken Sam. The phone went dead shortly after that, but it didn't matter. He knew where he was headed and that he had at least two people to deal with. Dean increased his speed, the studded tires gripping the icy, snowy road. He was afraid if he called the sheriff that Dex would just use Sam as a hostage, or kill him even and try to run. He had already gotten a look at the man's rap sheet. If he could just lay the guy out, the guy was wanted for enough that the law should take care of it. If not...then he might just to have to break the hunter's first law and take out the human scum himself.

When he got close to the place, he spotted the silver Cadillac and pulled into a side entrance, parking the car so it wasn't visible to the entrance the men had obviously gone in. Getting out, he went to the trunk and lifted the false bottom to get to his small arsenal. Sawed off shotgun with salt. 9-mm. Hunting knife. Throwing knives. Cuffs. Lock picks. Flashlight. 

He shut the trunk quietly then crept around the building. He studied the car a moment, confirming it was empty. He started for the door. The door would probably be unlocked but he had no idea how far inside they had taken Sam. As he approached the door, preparing to reach for the handle, a big guy with black hair exited. 

Both men looked shocked, but Dean reacted first, clocking the guy upside the head with the butt of the shotgun. The guy stumbled but didn't go down. Dean rushed him, driving his shoulder into the guy's chest and they both went down. The shotgun fell out of Dean's hands and the guy punched him in the jaw. Dean rolled away, his injured leg less than happy about the move. When the guy came at him again Dean pulled out the flashlight and nailed the guy in the temple; the guy got in a lucky shot and hit Dean in the face and Dean felt the blood running from his nose. Using the flashlight again, he nailed him in the solar plexus, across the jaw, and upside the head a final time before the guy went down with a groan. 

Dean cuffed the guy and quickly searched him. He tossed the two guns he found well away into the snow. Finding the keys, he dragged the semi-conscious guy to the car, opened the trunk and heaved the guy inside. Sonuvabitch the guy was heavy. He retrieved his dropped shotgun and crept inside the building.

He could hear voices, heard Sam's...laughter? He followed the sound and found two men and Sam, who was cuffed or tied to a chair. Moving silently into the room, Dean unloaded both rounds of salt into one of the guy's back before yanking his 9-mm and pointing it at both men.

"Don't move," Dean snapped and walked around them to get behind Sam. He was cuffed. "Keys to the cuffs, now."

Sam lifted his face and gave Dex the best, most mocking smile he could muster. "Told you I'd see you in hell. And that's the devil, right there... a friend of mine. You should do what he says."

Dexter's face flushed with anger. "You don't know who or what you're dealing with here," he said, pointing at Dean. "There's two of us here, and more coming. You're not gonna do shit with that little piece. Jack, get up."  
Seeing he wasn't shot, not with bullets anyway, Jack got up though his back hurt like a bitch. "Watcha got in there, movie bullets? Watch me raise the stakes."

It was surreal. It looked like people were moving in slow motion. Sam saw both men, Dex and Jack, reach for their guns, one in his pocket, the other had it tucked in his belt at his back. "Nooo," he shouted as their arms stretched out toward Dean. Using his weight, he rocked toward Dex, giving him a head butt to the hip as his chair toppled over.

Dean shot Jack in the shoulder and heard the man's gun clatter to the ground, then turn his gun on Dex but missed because Sam had knocked Dex back. The shot Dex fired went wide, missing Dean. Dex aimed his gun at Sam's head. "Drop it or he's dead," he told Dean.

Staring at the man, Dean began to lower his weapon, keeping his gazed locked on Dex and seeing Jack reaching for the gun he had dropped, agonized groans coming from him due to the gunshot wound and the back full of salt. As Dean dropped his gun lower, he saw the smirk on Dex's face. As soon as he had it at the correct angle, he fired, nailing Dex's wrist and the bullet passing through to catch the man in his gonads. Dex screamed as he dropped his gun and doubled over in pain. Dean turned his gun on the other man and shot him in the knee and then turned back and did the same to Dex. Kicking their guns away from them, he pulled out his lock picks and knelt behind Sam, watching the two men as he got the cuffs open.

"You okay, Sam?" Dean asked, cutting the ropes around ankles and helping Sam to his feet.

Grabbing Dean's arm, Sam straightened and shook his head. "Never better." He used his sleeve to wipe his face. "Did you just aim for his nuts?" 

"Course not. I went for the hand so he'd drop the gun. Not my fault his hand just happened to be in front of his dick." Dean handed Sam the gun. "Watch 'em." Pulling out his phone, he called the sheriff.

"Yeah, found Sam, out at that old hospital they're tearing down. Got the three kidnappers. Might want to send an ambulance. Got a couple gunshot wounds to treat....no, no, me and Sam are fine. Yeah, I'll cuff 'em and wait for you....no, they're all alive....it was self-defense!" Dean chuckled. "Sure thing."

Dean cuffed the two men while Sam held the gun on them, then Dean took back the gun and handed Sam the phone. "Here. Step outside to make the call you need to make. Speed dial four." He didn't want the thugs to have any more suspicion about Emily's whereabouts than necessary.

"Sam!" 

Dex's voice cracked like a whip and made Sam freeze. 

"You tell that guy to stay out of our business. You drive us home. Now. Or I'll have social services come down on you so hard you'll never see her again," Dex snarled, trying to get to his feet but with his injuries and cuffed wrists he couldn't. 

There was a slight pause, then Sam casually pointed at Dex with the phone. "Shoot him again," he said to Dean, then walked out.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean grinned at the guy. "Sam's not your boy anymore. As for the kid, she was already handed off to social services. Since you're wanted on suspicion of murder, distributing drugs, and now kidnapping and assault, as well as attempted murder of me, I don't think you have a chance in hell of having any say in what happens to that kid. And if you make another move, I'm going to consider it life threatening and I'll do more than shoot you in the balls, hand, and knee. Oh, did I mention I'm FBI and we're putting Sam in the witness protection plan? The kid too. _If_ you ever get out of prison, or maybe I should say, 'survive' prison, we'll be watching every move you make. I'll see to that personally." 

Dex gave him a hard stare but didn't make any more moves. His eyes shifted to Jack but the guy was still groaning and useless.   
The sound of sirens started to grow louder and louder, then there was the sound of slamming doors. Dex cursed and looked away as cops started to walk in.

* * *

They'd gone to a drive-through and picked up food and then stopped at Dean's to clean up and change. Though he couldn't cover up some of the damage, the last thing Sam wanted Emily to see was himself all bloodied up, and Dean hadn't been free of blood either. He'd washed his face and dried it and when he came out, Dean was waiting for him in the living room. His heart damned well flip flopped at the sight of the man who'd fought and kept him alive, and saved his daughter.   
He licked his lips. "FBI Agent Davis, huh? You probably should warn me next time. I mean I almost gave you a hug." He gave a sheepish grin, "Maybe something more than a hug, until I heard the sheriff call you Agent Davis. Almost blew your cover."

Dean chuckled. "That would have been unfortunate since you ex is pretty well convinced you and Em are in the witness protection plan now and that the FBI is keeping an eye on him." Dean pulled him into his arms. "You can give me a quick thank you kiss now before we go get Emily though." 

"Thank you... I don't think there are words," he said, his voice a little shaky with emotions as he slanted his mouth across Dean's and kissed him carefully, holding onto him so tight it hurt his ribs where he was injured. He moved his tongue alongside Dean's, stroking it, and running it across Dean's pallet, then pulling back and lightly kissing the corner of his mouth where Dean's lip was split. "I don't even know where to start with how much I owe you. Don't deny it, it's true." He put his forehead against Dean's and stayed there for a moment. 

"You don't owe me anything," Dean said. "Let's go get Emily. I know Lacey is still a little freaked over the whole thing. Emily still believes in Santa Claus, right?" 

"I do owe you, Father Christmas Dean." He grinned and finally let him go. "Yeah, I don't how she can, but yeah... she does. We do the whole cookies and milk for Santa thing." He gave Dean a look, knowing exactly who would eat them. "And then I leave something, like red thread from Santa's suit, or little reindeer prints on the porch. Why, you got an idea?"

"I just wanted to know. I'd feel pretty stupid telling her to go to sleep and maybe Santa will bring her something, you know, if she doesn't believe in Santa Claus. And stop calling me Father Christmas. You make me feel a hundred years old or something. What's this cookies and milk thing you're talking about?"

"You're kidding, right?" He grabbed Dean's arm and started walking to the door. One look at his face though, and he was convinced that the guy wasn't joking. "You know, leave cookies and milk for Santa before you go to bed. Wake up, half the cookies are gone, milk is gone, maybe there's some soot around the fireplace. You never left cookies for Santa? Alright, I'll play Father Christmas tonight and you and Em can do the milk and cookies thing and go to bed early so you'll be bright eyed and bushy tailed at six a.m." That had him groaning. "Damn..."

"Huh. No, never did the milk and cookie thing. I never...Christmas was never...it just wasn't a big deal. Hard to do much of a Christmas when usually you're in some trashy little motel somewhere. Presents were always practical. New shoes or coat. Notebook paper for school. I got a toy or two usually, from Goodwill or the Salvation Army or something, at least until I was about ten. Then...all practical stuff and weapons. Dad always made sure we had a whole pie for Christmas Day though. Apple, usually. And strawberry ice cream. He'd get us dinner from one of those restaurants that sold the Christmas meals." He looked over at Sam. "Six A.M. huh? No chance of her sleeping in?"

Sam made a face. "I dunno, maybe if I put blankets over the curtains and make sure her room is extra dark but I--I'll try." He walked down the porch stairs, waiting while Dean locked up. "We have pumpkin pie for tomorrow, unless you have canned apples, then we could make an apple pie. If I'd known, I'd have gotten some." 

Dean shrugged. "Don't worry about it. It was just Dad making up for not being able to get me much in the way of presents. 'Sides, you got me a pie earlier this week." He thought for a minute. "You know, there are a couple apples in the fridge. How about apple dumplings? There's still some vanilla ice cream left. That would be good. I've never had homemade apple dumplings."

"And now you think I'm Martha Stewart," Sam huffed. "I'll look it up on the internet," he promised, opening the car door and getting inside. 

Dean joined him in the car, stuck the key in the ignition, and started it up. "Hey you said you could make pie. Isn't an apple dumpling kinda like a pie? Apple and stuff wrapped in dough?"

When Dean pulled out onto the main road he flicked on the radio. Christmas songs were playing. When that first song ended, the radio announcer noted that there was going to be more snow tonight but that it ought to be the perfect Christmas Eve snow, a couple inches of the big white fluffy stuff and no real wind to speak of. Dean hoped people in the area were done travelling. He was usually one of the tow truck drivers that got called if there was an accident or someone needed their car started or something since everyone knew he didn't do Christmas and didn't have any family to keep him from going out. Glancing over at Sam, he decided tonight would be different. He was staying in. This was gonna be his first real Christmas he could ever remember, and he wasn't working. Someone else could do it.

"Sam, what happened to Emily's mom? There's not any chance she wants Emily back, especially with Dex probably headed to jail, right?" 

"Eileen." Sam gave a small smile as he recalled the past, both the good times and the bad. "You know, until her, I didn't know all the stuff Dex was into. I was busy with school at first, and then work and I didn't see it, or maybe I didn't want to," Sam said, frowning. "She showed up on my--our doorstep one day, in tears and asking for him. She was pregnant and maybe a couple years younger than me... sixteen. I wanted to tell her to get the hell out, I didn't wanna believe he was the father but the tears and her being pregnant--" he shrugged. "So I let her in and we talked and talked. I found out he was part of some gang and they had some stupid rule. Anyone who wanted in had to bang a member or something."  
He looked out the window. "She'd been thrown out of her house and had nowhere to go. When Dex came in and saw her, he knew that I knew everything. It's probably the first and last time I saw him look scared. He wasn't the big man in his gang back then. We started to have a lot of fights, some of it about me leaving, some because I insisted he let Eileen stay. He didn't give a shit about this girl. And I couldn't hate her or blame her once I knew she wasn't the only one he'd been with, I mean what was the point?"

With her big eyes and blond hair, Sam bet Eileen looked a lot like Emily in her childhood. "Long story short, I was there with her in the hospital when she had Emily. I'd researched the hell out of how to take care of a baby but the execution of it..." he chuckled at that. "Let's just say the first three months were an adventure or a comedy of errors. Dex was gone a lot, that helped. Then he started to climb up the ladder in the gang and started getting... different. He kicked her out but I still, I helped her take care of Em. She got a job at Starbucks and we both had flexible or part time schedules, so it wasn't hard. I mean it worked out. For a while."  
He swallowed. "She got pulled into working with Dex's people. Running drugs, there was more money in it than working at Starbucks. Or maybe he pressured her, I don't know, I really don't. She started taking drugs and was strung out a lot. Pretty much, she gave Emily to me. I mean she'd visit and I'd try to talk her into getting help but... I saw bruises on her. At the time, I never thought it was Dex. I mean I'm not sure but later, after she overdosed, after he started using Em against me and treating me like shit, I thought maybe he was responsible for them. She was a good kid, from a good family, but she was lost when her family threw her out. Kind of reminded me of me." He took a breath. "You know, if there's any way to get some of the stuff in the back of Dex's car, I'd like that. There was still stuff, our bags from Vermont. I have a couple pictures of Eileen there, and my own things. One day Emily might want to know."

"I'm glad he wasn't always a dirtbag," Dean said and meant it. "I mean, even if he was, he was an okay guy to be with in the beginning." Dean paused. "I'm not sure that quite came out the way I meant it. Your stuff, yeah, no problem. I'll get the sheriff to let me get the stuff. They might have to catalog it as evidence, but if it doesn't look important to nailing the guy, it can probably 'disappear' from the evidence room. The less stuff she has to keep in there, the happier it'll make her. I'm sorry about Em's mom, but at least I know now that that there's no other claim on Emily for custody."

They rode in silence for a few more minutes, listening to Christmas songs when Dean glanced briefly over at Sam again. "Thanks. You know, for giving me a Christmas, for cleaning up around the house, for helping me do my exercises and stuff. I know you probably don't think it's a big deal, but it is, to me. A real big deal. As big a deal to me as getting Dex off your ass is to you. I mean that. Just so you know."

"And you telling me that, that's a big deal 'cause I can't remember the last time someone I cared about, someone other than Em, said 'thanks.' Just so you know," Sam answered with a smile, putting his hand on Dean's thigh and moving closer to him.   
When they pulled up into Lacey's driveway, Sam saw the curtains move, then the door opened and Lacey and Emily came out. By the time he got his door open, Emily was scrambling inside, not in the back, but right on top of him. Even as Lacey came to his window to say Merry Christmas and that she was glad he was okay, Sam could feel Emily's eyes on him, inspecting him. He was glad it was dark, so she'd get used to the idea he had some marks before she saw the full extent. He gave Lacey a box of chocolates and then rolled up the window when she went around the car to talk to Dean.

When Lacey approached Dean's window, he clasped her hand. "Thank you. Next several oil changes and anything else you need, it's on me. Sorry to put you in that sitch. Won't happen again, everything's handled," he promised her.

"I'm just really glad you two are okay," she said smiling at him and then at Emily and Sam. "You owe me a dinner and filling me in on the hub-bub."

"Deal," Dean said with a grin then wished her a Merry Christmas and watched her walk back into her decorated house. He smiled at the couple of snowmen standing sentinel in the front yard.

"You warm enough, Em?" Sam asked, pulling the zipper of her jacket a little higher. He could see her eyes glistening. "S'alright. He's gone, and he's never coming back."

She reached out and touched his jaw and lip, then turned to Dean. "Did Mr. Dean shooted him with his gun?"

Sam sighed, exchanged a look, then nodded. "Yeah, he did. After he warned him to wait for the police and he still tried to attack us. He was defending...ow!" He winced as she launched herself from his lap to Dean's.

Hugging Dean, she whispered in his ear. "Good job, Mr. Dean."

Dean hugged her back. "I didn't kill him, Emily. I shot him in the hand to make him drop his gun, and then in the knee to keep him down. It's wrong to kill people, even if they deserve it, but he's going to go to jail for a very long time, and you two are gonna be safe. Promise you."

Nodding, she went back to Sam. "Daddy, can I sit with you?"

"Okay, yes, but if we see any cops, you gotta hide or Mr. Dean won't be happy about _his_ ticket," Sam said, putting his arms around her as she sat on his lap. "And Em, good job letting Mr. Dean know you saw the car. Quick thinking," he said, kissing her just as Dean backed out and turned the car around.

* * * 

Since they had take-out food, Sam had suggested they eat in the living room with the Christmas tree and window lights on, and just as he suspected, both Dean and Emily were very much into that idea. They put on a variety show and played a matching game using a couple of decks of cards that Dean produced. The loser's punishment was to be tickled, and Sam knew Dean threw a couple of games just to spare him the tickling though Emily was very careful.  
As Sam had predicted, she was very excited about opening presents and was under the tree several times, shaking presents and pestering Dean. Clearly, she didn't believe his 'grumpy face' because she talked his ear off.

Deciding it was time for her to calm down so she could get to sleep, Sam popped in a DVD. All three of them sat on the sofa, warmed by the fire as they watched. Eventually, Emily lay down, putting her head in Sam's lap and stretching her arm out over Dean's, as if to make sure he was there too.  
Sam studied Dean's profile, his gaze dropping to the cut on his lip. When Dean turned to look at him, he leaned in and kissed Dean, putting one arm around him. 

"You're spoiling the hell out of me," Dean murmured. "Both of you." He stroked Emily's hair, giving her a tender look then smiled at Sam. It was so damned hard not to let them open a present or two. Dean was especially excited about the birth certificate and new driver's license. Well, that and seeing the look on Sam's face when he gave him the truck. And he still had presents hidden to put out from 'Santa' for them. "We can't forget the milk and cookies," he reminded Sam. "Gotta keep up Santa's strength and all. Lots of toys to deliver."

Immediately, Emily looked up at them.

"Oh we won't forget. Emily wouldn't let us, would you?"

"Uh uh. We didn't make them this time," she said sadly.

"It's okay, we've got Oreos that Mr. Dean bought. Santa will love them. And so will his little helpers." Sam slid Dean a look.

"Oreos are always a sure bet, especially with milk," Dean agreed. "I bet pie is good too. Something different for Santa." He kept wanting to say 'we could do that next year' but there wasn't going to be a next year with them. They'd be off on their new life somewhere. For the best, he tried to tell himself. If they never left, Sam would probably want to decorate Dean's house for every holiday, be it Valentine's Day, or Easter, or the Fourth of July.

"You getting sleepy sweetheart?" Bending, Sam gave Em a kiss. "Love you."

"Mr. Dean, too?"

He chuckled and kissed Dean. "Yeah, Mr. Dean too. Now, let's go get the cookies and milk, the show's about to finish anyway."

Dean felt a slight flush color his cheeks. "I'll, uh, get a place to set the cookies so Santa is sure to see them."

While Sam and Emily were in the other room, Dean cleaned off an end table and using a crayon and construction paper he folded in half so it would stand up, he wrote 'For Santa' on it. They set the cookies and milk out, then Sam got Emily ready for bed. She insisted on a goodnight kiss from Dean so Dean obliged and tucked her in. "'Night, Emily. I'll see you in the morning."

"Night," she looked up at Sam. "Daddy, what about... you know." At Sam's blank look, she went on, "the surprise, for Mr. Dean."

"Oh, that, yeah... ah," he ran his hand though his hair. "Okay, how about when you get up in the morning, you come get me really quietly, and we'll let Dean sleep a while and I'll... you know... and everything will be good, okay?"

"Okay, I'll tippy tippy toe, and I won't jump on him, just on you."

"Imp! Night." Shaking his head, Sam shut the light off and walked out with Dean, leaving the door slightly open. "She said jump, didn't she? I'm gonna need armor."

"Surprise?" Dean asked, trying to hide the bit of excitement he felt at them getting him a surprise of some sort. "And you can--I want to get up when you two do."

"Six a.m.? Really? It'll still be dark out. Really?" He searched Dean's face. "Alright, I'll be sure to tell her to jump on you. You'll get the full experience. And then you'll be begging me never to let her do it again."  
Even as he said the words, he knew it might only be this one time. But Dean had said he might visit, and Sam could hope. He licked his lips. "So what do you think, you want some eggnog, or spiked coffee?" 

"Let's get back to this 'surprise' and yeah, some spiked eggnog would be good. What's the surprise? I'll act surprised in the morning, promise."

Sam rubbed Dean's back as they headed to the kitchen. "You'll act surprised because you'll _be_ surprised. I'm not telling you what your Christmas present is! That would be like giving you your birthday present a month early. And by the way, when is your birthday?" 

"January and I _always_ got my birthday presents a month early. 'This is your Christmas and birthday present, Son,'" he mimicked his late father. "I think he did that in case he forgot or was away hunting. Like I said, we never really did holidays or birthdays for that matter. It was always low-key, whatever we did." 

Sam got the eggnog out of the fridge and opened the carton, pouring two glasses. Meanwhile Dean got the rum and Sam noticed the liberal spiking that was going on. "You're not trying to get me drunk, are you?" Coming up behind Dean, he closed his arms around him and kissed his neck. "Cause, you know, you're pretty damned intoxicating all on your own, Mr. Adorable." He smiled against Dean's skin and then nipped him lightly. "Taste good too."

"After the day we've had, I figure we deserve a little relaxation tonight." Dean tilted his neck to give Sam more access. "Hey no biting unless you really mean it," he said and turned in Sam's arms. "So c'mon Martha Stewart, give Mr. Adorable some proper sugar." Before Sam had a chance to respond, he leaned in and kissed Sam, slipping his tongue inside Sam's mouth, tangling tongues with him. When he finally broke their kiss he smacked his lips. "Yep, you taste pretty damned good yourself. Think I might need to borrow a cup of sugar from you tonight. A big humping cup of sugar." Dean grinned. "Let's go drink our eggnog and watch a good old classic monster movie. Like The Mummy or Godzilla or something."

Sam couldn't get up the energy to chide him for his Martha crack, not after a kiss like that. Licking his lips, tasting Dean on them, he backed out of the kitchen, giving Dean a look that said he was up for more.  
"Let's do 'Santa' before we get settled," Dean said and, after setting his eggnog on the end table, went to his office and brought out the extra presents. He saw Sam's look. "What? It's just a couple extra things," he said as he put them under the tree.

Sam shook his head. "One word. Pushover."

Dean grinned. 

Sam retrieved some red thread that he hooked on the fireplace screen.

It turned out that the TV programmers hadn't thought a monster flick would be popular on Christmas Eve, so Sam and Dean settled for an action film. "It's a Christmas classic," Sam said as Die Hard rolled onto the screen. They'd both seen it many times so they mostly snuggled together, talked a little, drank quite a bit, and kissed a lot. 

During commercial breaks, their kissing would heat up. This time Sam leaned over Dean, kissing the hell out of him. As his tongue moved in and out of Dean's mouth, he cradled Dean's head with one hand and ran his other one lovingly down his neck and spine, unconsciously feeling the spaces between his vertebrae. He shifted his body, and suddenly pressed down as he moved his hands just right and cracked Dean's back, without stopping to take a breath.

Dean let out with a muffled complaint as his back sounded like a mini-popcorn factory, but that complaint was soon forgotten as Sam continued to kiss him. Wrapping his arms around Sam he pulled him closer, pulling him on top of him. He groaned into Sam's mouth as he felt his cock begin to stiffen. He finally broke off the kiss. "Screw the movie, I've got my own happy ending in mind," Dean whispered against Sam's lips.

"Yeah, ok," Sam readily agreed breathlessly as he stared into Dean's beautiful eyes. "I need a shower," he said, wanting to wash off the events of the afternoon somehow. "Your shower has room for two." Smiling suggestively, he got up, giving Dean his hand and pulling him up off the couch. 

"A shower, huh? Yeah, that's probably a real good idea," Dean said following Sam, letting him lead him up the stairs. Dean's eyes were glued to Sam's back side and soon as they reached the top of the stairs, he captured Sam in his arms, kissing his neck as he slid one hand down to Sam's jeans, unbuttoning them and walking them slowly toward the bathroom. "You do like water sports, right?" Dean murmured, his hand rubbing over Sam's growing erection. "Mmm, I'd say you do."

"I like 'Dean sports'. A lot." He started to peel Dean's over-shirt off Dean's shoulders, then pulled his tee shirt up over his head. "Oh yeah, a lot," Sam dipped his head and kissed Dean's throat and chest as he reached into the shower to turn the water on. Then they were kissing again and undressing each other, touching like they couldn't bear to be apart. By the time they were in the shower and under the water, Sam was so damned hard he whimpered with need each time Dean moved and he couldn't rub against him.

Dean couldn't get enough of Sam as he sucked on tender skin, running his hands down Sam's back, pulling him close, pressing against Sam's ass, his cock dripping with more than just water. Caressing Sam's chest, he murmured compliments of 'you're beautiful' or 'handsome' or 'gorgeous' and 'wonderful' and meant every one of them. Reaching between Sam's legs he lightly gripped and stroked Sam's sac before moving higher to toy with Sam's cock.

Dean's words washed over him, healing old wounds in ways Sam could never explain. "You take me places I've never been. Touch me in ways I never thought possible," he whispered, biting his lower lip as Dean squeezed and stroked him, getting him impossibly harder. "You give me courage, and hope and..." a deep groan broke from the back of his throat as he thrust into Dean's calloused palm, "make me want to grow." 

"You are strong, you're courageous, and you're filled with hope or you never would have broken free of him," Dean said, then turning Sam around to face him, he gave slight smirk as he continued to stroke Sam, "and I definitely feel some 'growing' going on."   
Seeing the tile wall behind Dean, an image flashed in Sam's head. Sparkling white tile, a sudden splash of red against it, and water washing the blood down. He closed his eyes for a moment. "He used to like to shove my face into things, walls, headboard..." That's why he never turned his back to Dean during sex. But Dean wasn't Dex. Not by any stretch of the imagination, and Sam knew it. He wasn't asking for sympathy, just sharing something, and that alone seemed to lift some of the weight off his shoulder.

Seeking Dean's mouth, he kissed him hard, desperately wanting to forget the past and to move on, move on with this very special man. He pulled back, running his thumb over Dean's mouth, lingering over his cut for a moment, before he turned around and placed his forearms and hands against the cool tile wall and stepped a little back from it.

Dean started to protest. He loved watching Sam's face as Dean brought him to the edge, seeing the love and caring in those eyes turn to lust and need, that lust and need for _him_ and him alone. He realized Sam needed this from him though. Needed to know he could trust a lover not to hurt him or abuse their power over him. "You don't need to prove anything to me, Sam, but if this is what you _want_ , you, in your heart, want, then I'll give it to you. Are you sure? The bed is only a towel and handful of steps away."

The words had Sam tearing up a little and he was glad the water was running and Dean wouldn't be able to tell. He turned slightly, so Dean could see his face, see that he was being honest. "I want to be with you every way I can. I don't want you to have to go slow, or worry or.... It's what I want, as many good memories as I can collect." Reaching out, he closed his hand around Dean's cock and squeezed and stroked him, watching his eyes, waiting until they darkened with lust. "I want you, just like that," he said huskily, leaning in and sliding his mouth over Dean's wet lips and kissing him, before he turned around again.

Dean stared at that body, waiting for him, ready for him. "I'll give you good memories," Dean said, stepping up to Sam and pressing against him. He pulled back and began kissing the water-droplet coated skin, paying special attention to random spots on Sam's back as he touched him, feeling soft skin under his calloused fingers. He got down on his knees, caressing Sam's tight firm ass, admiring it, exploring it with his hands until him finally spread Sam's cheeks and began to investigate the crack with his tongue, licking his way down to Sam's hole.

He teased his tongue around the tight puckered hole, pulsing and thrusting until he felt it clench and unclench. He took advantage of it when it relaxed and speared his tongue in, swirling it around and hearing Sam's soft gasp. He continued to work at Sam's hole with his tongue until he had Sam responding the way he wanted him to, to every move his tongue made. He reached over and grabbed the soap and soaped his hands thoroughly and slowly inserted a finger inside Sam, lubing it with suds and brushing his finger across Sam's prostate now and again.

Sam stopped worrying about the closeness of his face to the tile, even letting his face slip off his arms and rest directly against the cool surface as he squirmed and made an effort to remember to keep breathing. The attention Dean was paying him had Sam weak-kneed, his fingers flexing against the wall as tiny explosions of pleasure went off inside his body. "Oh God..." he licked the water off his lips and arched when Dean's finger sent another current of heat through him. "Something to be said for being detail oriented," he joked, trying to pull himself back from the edge. 

"I like to be thorough in my research," Dean said, pulling out his finger part way so he could slip a second soapy finger in. He stretched Sam's hole as he finger fucked him, brushing his prostrate while he explored. He got slowly to his feet and when he felt Sam was ready, pulled his fingers free, soaping his cock as he stroked it hard. He nudged his cock up against Sam's hole and gripped his hips. 

Feeling the blunt tip of Dean's cock up against his hole, Sam hissed out a breath. He liked Dean's firm grip on him, it made him feel like Dean would never let him go, and that thought made a lump rise in his throat. He didn't want this to end. Ever. But he didn't know how to make what he wanted happen, and that hurt.  
"Cushion your face, or brace yourself, just in case," Dean suggested softly. He did not want to inadvertently shove Sam's face into the tile. "Let me do the work, Baby. I gotcha."

Sam had been pressing back, but he relaxed now and put his face back on his arm. "Need you. Need you so bad, Dean," he said, already imagining how good it would feel with Dean inside him. How good it always felt when they were that connected.

Dean snapped his hips, getting his crown passed Sam's tight ring of muscle in a single fluid stroke. Pausing, he waited until he felt Sam relax a little and his breathing evened out a bit. Wrapping one arm around Sam's waist, he shoved in deep and suddenly, pulling Sam up against him, feeling his balls pressed up against Sam's ass and groaning as he held himself there. "Shshsh, all in, Baby, all in," he soothed, kissing Sam's neck then sucking on it as his free hand went to Sam's cock and began to give slow leisurely strokes, distracting Sam from the burning stretch. He paid close attention to Sam's physical cues waiting until he knew Sam was ready then he rolled his hips as he began the slightest bit of thrusting.

It hurt a little, but Dean was there for him, telling him it was okay and giving him time. Sam concentrated on how Dean's mouth felt sliding along his throat, and his hand now jacking him slowly, so damned slowly Sam had to wonder if Dean was trying to drive him out of his mind. Then he felt Dean's cock twitch inside him and knew Dean was suffering too, that he needed this. Letting out a breath, he clenched his inner muscles around Dean, pulsing a few times and finally nodding against his arm. "Okay... okay Dean, I'm good. Fuck me." He turned his head and gave Dean a messy kiss, then pushed back against him, physically echoing his invitation.

Dean chuckled softly into his ear. "I am, Sammy. It's not about the coming, it's all about the getting there. I'm not gonna fuck you, Baby, I'm gonna make love to you. You've been fucked all your life. Time someone loved you instead."

Dean gave soft thrusts then rolled his hips and thrust a bit deeper and harder, pausing between to give Sam's body and cock his full attention, then mixing it up, combining pleasures and pauses, nipple twists and ball fondling, stroking on the outside and on the inside. Every groan that echoed from the tiled walls was a sweet reward to him. His own moans of pleasure mixed with Sam's as he drew out the pleasure, keeping them both on the razor's edge until he couldn't hold back any longer. "Brace," he whispered in Sam's ear and then began to fuck Sam, pistoning faster, holding Sam close and steady, his groans increasing as he stroked his lover to the same pace. Faster and faster, harder and harder, making sure every stroke was angled perfectly to give them both the most pleasure.

Having been touched, caressed and loved into the sweetest state of sheer agony, Sam was never more ready for Dean. "Yesss," he hissed, pushing back against Dean, grinding his ass into his lover's hips and moaning out his pleasure each time Dean slammed into him with increased force. Dean was right though, as good as the word was to his ears... this ... what they were doing, it wasn't just fucking. It was making love, it was caring enough for the other person to see beyond their own needs, it was fighting for control over the heat that consumed them only to make sure the fire burned hotter for their partner. Every stroke of Dean's cock over his prostate told Sam this, every careful look to make sure Sam's face was protected told Sam this, and every agonized grunt from Dean spoke volumes about how much easier it would be for the guy to simply let go and get satisfaction now, told Sam this.  
He wanted, needed to give back the pleasure Dean was gifting to him. Reaching back with one hand, he clutched at Dean's ass, groping, squeezing, encouraging him. He didn't hold back his moans or his pleas, wanting Dean to know what he was doing to him, how he was affecting him and making him feel. He rocked back as hard as he could, clenching around Dean's cock in time with Dean's hips, each time he pulled back. "Oh...oh...yeah... Dean ... fuck..." He slapped his palm against the tile, throwing his head back on Dean's shoulder as he struggled for breath and his body seized, his balls tightening. "Dean!" he managed to choke out as he came hot and hard, suddenly unaware of anything but the man pounding into him with equal need. 

It slammed into Dean, the fire, the lightning blaze of passion and suddenly it culminated as everything in him burned and he felt the explosion as his balls tightened hard enough he cried out, he seed spewing into his lover in a hot burst. He pumped harder as his body shook and he threw his head back in sheer ecstasy before he buried his teeth into Sam's shoulder, groaning as his frantic motions slowed.

The sharp bite drew an unexpected second orgasm from Sam, his gut clenching as he came again, coating Dean's hand and the tile, and moving against his lover. "A Christmas present to end all Christmas presents," Sam breathed, tired and happy and feeling all sorts of good. "And the sex was good too," he added, waiting for Dean to pull out, then turning in his arms and kissing him, making love to Dean's mouth, to his body, touching him everywhere, making this about Dean, showing him that he was the center of his world, that he'd do anything for Dean.

When they finally pulled apart, Sam kissed him again lightly, and started to wash him with the soap, massaging him lightly. Dean was a complete sucker for massages, and that made Sam smile because it was something he could do for the man, and do it well. When his fingers probed Dean's hips, he felt Dean tense a little, and moved closer to him, shoving his own hip against Dean's. "I'd never..." he tugged Dean just right and heard a satisfying crackling. "...hurt you. Trick you a little, maybe," he said with a chuckle. Releasing Dean, he washed himself.

"Yeah, same here," Dean said, beginning to feel all the adrenaline of the day catching up with him. Dean washed his hair, squirting some shampoo into Sam's without asking and chuckling at Sam's exclamation. "What? Just trying to be efficient before we run out of hot water. Which will be any minute now."

After finishing washing himself, he stepped out, feeling the water beginning to cool just as he predicted. Sam was practically right behind him. Tossing Sam a towel, he began to dry himself off with his own. When Sam had turned his back to Dean, Dean grinned, twirled his towel, and snapped Sam's ass with it. He laughed gleefully at Sam's yelp and dashed out of the bathroom. He was still half wet when he peeked around the doorframe, his towel ready, expecting retribution from his lover.

"Think it's funny?" Sam huffed, coming after Dean and laughing when he saw Dean was ready for him. "Fine, it's just gonna be worse, cause now you have to expect it when you least--" he tried to get Dean but Dean's towel blocked his own. "Like I said," he pulled his towel back and finished drying off, "when you least expect it." Maybe if he weren't aching, he might have tried harder. Backing up to the bed, he sat down and openly admired the view. "You should pick up that towel," he pointed with his chin. "Very slowly," he added with a definite leer.

"Hah, and give you a free shot at me? Don't think so." Dean finished drying off then tossed the towel aside carelessly and walked toward Sam, leaning over and giving him a kiss when he reached him. "This six a.m. stuff is going to come mighty early. And you have worn me, the inexhaustible Winchester, out. So," he tugged down the blankets, "what do you think, 'Martha,' wanna keep me warm?" Dean crawled into bed and laid down on his back, patting the mattress beside him.

Shutting off the light, Sam rolled toward Dean and more than willingly rested his head on Dean's chest and covered part of his body with his own. "I think I like 'Sammy' better." He kissed Dean's chest, and smiled against it. "But you, with an offer like this, you can pretty much call me whatever you like, and I'll still... come."

Dean chuckled, "Okay, I'll stick with Sammy. Most times."

A little while later, when Dean's breathing was even and his hand on Sam's back had gone lax, Sam found he couldn't quite sleep yet. He spoke softly, just needing to get it off his chest. "Two things. This afternoon, when I knew or thought there was a chance I... you know, wouldn't get out of that sitch." He swallowed. "For the first time ever, I... I knew Em would be okay. And I know you don't need some kid around you all the time, but I knew if I didn't come back, that you'd take care of her or make sure she was okay. I never had that luxury before, never trusted anyone like that before," he said. "And second, I .. I was sorry I never told you, that you wouldn't know." He held him just a little tighter. "Dean Winchester, I love you, and it's for real." He let his eyes drift shut then and snuggled closer.

* * *

Dean groaned softly when a very excited six year old climbed into bed and started shaking him awake with "Santa was here, Santa was here! C'mon Mr. Dean!"

Cracking an eye open he saw it was quarter till seven. Huh, they let him sleep in, apparently. "Okay, okay. I'm getting up. Scoot. Mr. Dean will be down in a minute." He felt the wet sloppy kiss on his cheek and the girl was gone, racing down the stairs yelling to her father that Mr. Dean was getting up. Yawning and stretching, he threw back the covers and pulled on some clothes. He dry scrubbed his face, trying to wake up. 

When he started walking downstairs he smelled the coffee. "No present opening until there's a mug of coffee waiting on me!" he called down the stairs.

"I wouldn't be so excited if all I had waiting on me were lumps of coal," Sam hollered back from the kitchen, already pouring the coffee.  
"Daddy!" Emily chided him and danced around the tree until Dean emerged and then she grabbed his hand. "Look, Santa's clothes got caught," she said, pointing at the long red string hanging off the fireplace screen. "And he ate the cookies, and he was messy." Giggling, she pointed at the crumbs on the floor.

"And," she practically shouted as she dragged Dean to the front door, "there are reindeer foot prints on the..." Stopping suddenly, she put her arms across the door so he couldn't open it. "Never mind," she said, in Sam's exact tone.

"And... let's give Mr. Dean three minutes of peace," Sam suggested, putting two steaming hot mugs of coffee down on the coffee table, then walking over to Dean and giving him a kiss, despite the wide eyed look from his daughter.

"I'm surprised Rumsfeld didn't clean up after Santa," Dean said, returning Sam's kiss and, after giving the door a suspicious look, he decided he'd let them have whatever secret was outside until it was time. He settled onto the couch and picked up his coffee. Taking a sip, he sighed happily. Oh yeah, just the thing he needed.

"Emily, bring your dad that flat package and the small box from me," Dean said. "And then you choose two presents to open, maybe one from me or your dad and one from Santa." 

"Yay!" Her high pitched voice filled the air as she skipped back to the tree and pulled out some packages. She looked back at Sam and held up some of Dean's packages, and at her dad's nod, went back and forth, bringing the first set of presents over to the coffee table. She held one in her hands, her eyes shining. "Can I open it, can I?"

"One, two... three, go!" Sam said, holding his presents, feeling them and trying to guess as he watched her face light up as she tore into the first present. "You too Dean, open up," he said, carefully tearing the paper on the flat package. "I'm guessing this is the Idiot's Guide To Demons, Vampires and Ghouls?"

Dean laughed. "No, but maybe I should get you one of those too," he said, tearing open his first present with the same enthusiasm Emily was showing. He was trying to watch Sam as Sam opened the package with the identity papers, but his breath caught as he looked at the framed picture of him and his dad and Bobby. His throat practically closed up on him and he ran his fingers over the glass. He looked up at Sam gratefully. "Thanks."

Sam smiled. "Thought you could put pictures on the mantle instead of hiding them in the drawer. And now I know why you're so into my car, or is it into me _because_ of my car," he gave Dean a look, then pulled the papers out of the envelope.  
Emily's whoops as she held up the doll Dean had gotten her and threw herself at Dean hardly registered on Sam as he stared at their birth certificates, social security cards and even a new driver’s license for himself. Dean had come through. He'd totally had come through for them, which shouldn't surprise Sam at all, but he had to wonder how many favors Dean had to call on, or what this cost him... to get this done so quickly. Pained joy washed over him. This was their ticket to freedom, but it was also a reminder that they'd be on their own again soon.

He waited for Emily to get her kiss and sit back down on the floor as she opened another present and then locked gazes with Dean who was watching him closely. "I don't even know how to thank you for this, how do you thank someone for a life?" Unable to express himself any better, he slanted his mouth over Dean's and kissed him. "You're the one spoiling us," he said, breaking away to see Emily hopping around again, this time shoving a leapster game under his face and showing him what Santa got her.

"I can't get it out," she said, tugging on the packaging.

"I'll get it," Sam promised, "bring a couple more presents over." When she ran back to the tree, Sam put his hand over Dean's arm and shook his head. "Around her little finger... Father Christmas," he chuckled, and started to open the smaller box.

Thrusting a flat package on Dean's lap, Emily opened other presents of markers and crayons and coloring books, exclaiming and pushing one or both of them to hurry up and help her get her toys out of the packaging. Sam had bought some little nail polishes and lip gloss, things the ladies at the salon had helped him select for her, and he saw how right they'd been, but almost choked when she offered to paint Dean's nails pink later on.

"I think your dad would do better with the nail polish than me, thanks," Dean said. He saw Sam lift out the truck keys from the box and look at him curiously. "The Impala, you're welcome to wait on it, but it's kind of distinct. The pickup gets like 35 miles to the gallon, has a great engine, the back is covered with one of those flat hard covers that locks so you've got plenty of dry storage and no one can see what you've got. Your massage stuff will fit in it easy. It's non-descript and not something people will remember. The plates for it will be here in a couple days. It's yours, the title is in your name. If you'd be willing to sell me the Impala...I'd take good care of her."

Just like that Sam's eyes misted. He held up a finger, stopping Emily from dropping her toys and coming to him. "Happy tears, Em," he said, tightly, swallowing, then hugging Dean and kissing his throat. "I was going to tell you, when you come visit us... to take her, the Impala, home with you. An incentive," he said thickly, gripping Dean tighter. "There better not be any other surprises, I don't think I can take any more." Kissing him again, he slowly detangled himself and wiped his eyes.

"I think...I think Santa brought you a couple things, but no that's...that's everything from me," Dean said, feeling himself choke up. "Just so you...so you know, John was my dad's name, and Mary, my mom's," he said indicating the birth certificate. Campbell was my mom's maiden name." He turned to the present Emily had given him and opened it to find a framed picture of his mom and dad when they were younger, himself a small boy with them. Tears stung his eyes. "Now when I look at this, I'll think of them, but I'll think of the two of you, too."

Dean waved Emily toward the rectangular box for her and the presents from 'Santa' for Sam. He watched as Emily opened up the tow truck. He'd taken it out and painted Singer Salvage on the side, using the paints he'd gotten for Sam to paint the model cars Sam was now opening. The paints he'd wrapped up with the model cars.

"It's just like your truck, Mr. Dean! Look, Daddy!" she squealed with delight.

Dean grinned, having been afraid Emily wouldn't like a 'boy' gift. "Looks like Santa's elves painted Singer Salvage on it for you, too," Dean said. When he saw Sam open the model cars he smirked. "See, even Santa knows you need to learn the parts to a car engine and I'm sure those will help teach you."

Sam shook his head at the offers from both of them to explain car parts to him. It looked like had some studying to do to keep them happy. 

Dean picked up his last package and opened it. It was a black flannel shirt. "It's awesome, both of you, thanks a lot." Dean pulled it on and it was a perfect fit. "Sam, why don't you help Emily get her toys open and I'll go get the breakfast rolls in the oven and baking and get Emily some hot chocolate heating up."

He carried his two pictures to the mantle and after rearranging a few things, place them there. Okay, no more Christmases after this he decided. They were too damned depressing.

Sam laughed, figuring Dean had as much enthusiasm as he could take. "Warned you," he sing-songed.

"Mr. Dean," she scooted across the floor on her hands and knees, then held onto his pants as she got up. "You have to go outside now. Pleeeeaaze."

Grabbing a blanket, Sam got up and wrapped it around her, then lifted her into his arms. "You might as well just give in and do as she says."

"Now huh?" Dean sighed. One look into her pleading eyes and he found he just couldn't say 'no.' "All right. Lemme get my boots on."

He went over to the couch and slid his feet into his boots and tied them, then grabbed his coat from the hook. "Okay, lead on. What do I have to go outside to see other than reindeer footprints?"

She giggled and wiggled in Sam's arms as he opened the door and took her out into the cold air. His breath misted, it was so damned cold. There were reindeer prints on the deck, but she was looking excitedly at the usually empty corner of the porch, and back at Dean.

Dean stepped out and looked the direction Emily indicated and his jaw dropped. A white porch swing, hung from chains, slowly moved in the slight breeze. He walked over to it. There wasn't any snow on it which meant Sam must have just put it up this morning. He sat down on it, noticing it was comfortably wide enough for three people. "Thanks, this is just...I'll use it and I know Rummy will love it too. When the hell did you two manage to pull this off? And Sam, you shouldn't have spent the money on it. It wasn't necessary."

A grin split across Sam's face seeing Dean was genuinely happy. "I didn't... I just fixed it up."  
"We went treasure hunting," Em told him, physically rolling toward Dean until Sam had to put her down in Dean's lap, and tucked the blanket under her bare feet. 

"It's from the yard," Sam nodded toward the area where the salvage was piled up. "Every porch should have one."

"And we put our name on it, on the back. 'E and S', so you'll never forget us. Right daddy?"

"That's right," he shook his head, his eyes meeting Dean's. 

"Believe me, kiddo, I don't think you ever have to worry about that," Dean said, holding the girl close in his arms. "Yeah, definitely not." He just held her a moment, swinging slightly in the swing. He swallowed hard then stood up, holding Emily. "So are you ready for some hot chocolate and fresh baked cinnamon rolls?" 

"Let's do it." Following them inside, Sam looked at the still swaying swing for a moment, imagining Dean on it in the evenings when the weather grew warmer, then pulling the door shut and rubbing his arms. It was nice and warm inside, and it had nothing to do with the roaring fire, and everything to do with the man and the child spinning around in the middle of the living room and laughing with pure joy. 

* * *

After their light breakfast, Sam had cooked up a storm for dinner. Everyone was warned that if they came into the kitchen, they would be put to work, and he wasn't kidding either, as both Dean and Emily found out each time they ventured in to ask about what was smelling good. The turkey was in the oven, the sides were made, and Dean's apple dumplings looked real good though Sam had to protect them from the man.  
Now it was late afternoon and Sam had fallen asleep on the sofa, completely oblivious to Emily's haranguing of Dean to play with her new toys. She'd also bugged him to show her how the electronic game Santa got her daddy worked, but quickly decided it was boring.

Now she followed Dean into the kitchen and watched him checking on the food. "I'm hungry, are you hungry?"

"I'm always hungry," Dean said. He glared at the little red stick that was supposed to pop up when the turkey was done, as if glaring at it would make it happen. He shut the door and sighed. "Not yet," he said disappointedly. "Why don't we set the table? Maybe that'll tell that turkey we're ready and we mean business." He started to open the cupboards and suddenly paused. "Let's do this right for your dad. He's worked really hard on this, so let's make the table all fancy for him." He thought a minute and then smiled. "You go get the construction paper Santa brought you and the fresh crayons. Be quiet and don't wake your dad."

Emily was back in practically half a heartbeat. Dean pulled out a sheet of red construction paper, folded it over a couple times and cut out some small circles. Then he took out a gold sheet and cut some more circles, slightly bigger. "Make these into ornaments, draw stars and snowmen and designs and stuff on them."

Dean dashed outside and jogged to a nearby pine tree and cut off three small branches. He returned to the warm house and tied the branches together, then put them down in a glass vase that he stuffed with aluminum foil and the scraps of construction paper. He went to his desk and found the paper clips. "When you're done coloring, unfold these just like this." He showed Emily what he wanted. Upstairs, he found a red sheet and some pale green hand towels in the linen closet. Carrying them downstairs, he cleaned off the things on the dining room table and covered it with the sheet, then laid out the hand towels like placemats. Going over to the hutch in the room, he opened it and pulled out a bunch of papers and some books and grinned. He carefully pulled out Bobby's wife's china, selecting only the things he thought they'd need. Quickly washing them up, he set them on the table and did the same with the fancy silverware. Sam had found a couple candelabras and cleaned them up, so he set those on the table too. Emily ran out to the dining room and tugged on Dean's pants.

"All done Mr. Dean," she whispered.

Dean grinned and joined her in the kitchen. He pushed the paper clips through the paper ornaments and gave them to her to hang on the little 'tree' he'd made for the table. She insisted it needed a star so he made a sort of lopsided one out of aluminum foil. He checked the turkey and grinned at her. "It's ready but I think it's supposed to sit for a few minutes."

Pulling the turkey out and setting it on the counter, he put the rolls in the oven and heated up the still warm side dishes. Dean gave Emily small things to carry out to the table like the butter and salt and pepper. He put the tree in the center of the table and then started bringing out all the dishes Sam had made, some of them still in their casserole dishes and some things he put in china bowls. Finally, he carved the turkey, putting the pieces onto the china platter.

Carrying the turkey and the rolls to the table, he looked at Emily. "Did I miss anything?"

She shook her head. "It looks pretty," she said, giving him her full approval and then handing him a rubber band. "Can you do a ponytail?" Without waiting for him to answer, she turned around and gave him her back. 

Dean practically smacked himself. He hadn't given her the dress or shoes yet! He'd completely forgotten to wrap them after he'd mended the dress and polished the shoes. "I'll do you one better, but you have to be really quiet, okay? Go to your room. I'll be right there."

He wondered if there was ever a time she didn't 'dash' anywhere. He retrieved the dress from the bag that he'd planned on giving her this morning and brought it to her. "What do you think? Think your dad would like to see you in it for Christmas dinner?"

She sucked in her breath when she saw it, reached up and ran her fingers over it. "Like a princess dress. I like it. So daddy will like it," she declared. Immediately, she started tugging her clothes off, anxious to get the dress on before Sam woke. Standing up, she raised her arms for Dean to put the dress over her head. "How did you know red is for Christmas dresses," she asked as the velvet material slid down over her face, and then Dean was tugging the dress into place.

"Lucky guess. Try on these shoes." Dean helped her with the shoes he had spit polished. They were about a half size too big for her, but he was pleased he'd gotten the size about right anyhow. Once she was all dressed, he put her hair up in the requested pony tail, then buttoned and tucked in the black flannel shirt they'd given him. "So Miss Emily, do I look okay?"

She looked him up and down. "Uh huh, you look handsome." Emily started to take a step toward the door, then stopped and looked up. "Mr. Dean? Will you marry me?"

Dean stared at the pretty little girl with the big eyes and opened his mouth but nothing came out. Okay, this was definitely a first. He'd never been proposed to by a six year old. "Uh, I think, uh, maybe when you get a little older...." he said, unsure how to tell the young girl he couldn't marry her.

"Okay, but I'm already six," she reminded him. "And my daddy too, marry us both? He's old already."

"....It isn't that...I'll be sure to tell your dad you asked, okay?" Dean finally answered. Did he want Sam to stay? Yeah. Not just yeah, but 'hell yeah' he did. Dex might be going to prison but that didn't mean he didn't still have power outside those walls, and who knew, he might be able to skate altogether on some technicalities or something. It wasn't absolutely safe for Sam and Emily here. Both he and Sam knew that. But he could teach Sam how to fight, how to shoot a gun, something, maybe....

"Go wake your dad before dinner gets cold," Dean told her, wishing the impossible. That they could stay.

Seeing his face grow sad, she squeezed his hand. "It's okay, you don't have to marry us," she whispered, and let him go, running out the room and toward the sofa with her shoes flip flopping off her feet and making a lot of noise as they struck the wooden floor.

"Daddy." She used the strands of her hair that had already escaped the rubber band to tickle Sam's face.

"Mmm," he groaned and opened one eye. "Do we have horses in the house?"

"Nooo! Big floppy shoes," she said, tugging on his arm. "We have a surprise, you have to get up."

"Okay, okay. Food smells good, oh God, you guys must be hungry," Sam said, sitting up suddenly and feeling guilty. He blinked. "Well don't you look lovely. Did Dean fix your hair?" He raised an eyebrow and looked at Dean who was standing near the dining room table and lighting up candles. "All sorts of hidden talents there," he said, getting up.

That's when Sam saw the rest. His mouth fell slightly open as he walked with her. "Fancy... you guys did this all on your own? And look at that centerpiece. Someone's got some Martha in him," Sam teased, putting an arm around Dean and kissing his cheek. "I can't believe I slept through it but... wow... just wow," he said, letting her hand go and straightening his own clothes. "We should take a picture with your phone camera."

"Bobby's got a camera," Dean said going to the closet. He knew Bobby had a couple but the first one he found worked as far as he was concerned and pulled it out. He quickly changed out the batteries in it and turned it on. Setting it on a shelf that he figured was about the right height and after a moment of figuring out the buttons, hit the delay and rushed to join Sam, scooping up Emily. "Okay, look at the camera and say 'reindeer.'"

The flash went off and Dean went and checked it. He brought the polaroid picture over and showed it to them. "Whaddaya think?"

"Perfect. How about another one, for you?" Sam suggested, laying claim to the first picture. 

Dean gave him a mild glare. "Yeah, okay," he said, giving Sam the evil eye. He set the camera again, put Emily on his other hip, grabbed the front of Sam's shirt and pulled him into a kiss until the flash went off. He grinned at Sam. "Yeah, the second one is definitely mine."

"You and your pinups," Sam muttered, waiting for Dean to bring the picture over. He and Emily poured over it, and he was definitely regretting not having waited to select between the two, and from Dean's face, the guy read his mind. "You can scan it for me," he told him, giving him a look, then helping Emily get seated. 

"Seriously, you two did a beautiful job here." He got a napkin and put it over Em's chest, tucking a corner into her neckline. "Don't wanna get your pretty dress dirty." When he sat down, Dean was already serving the turkey. "Carved like a pro," he said, taking the plate and putting some sides on it for Emily. He was watching Dean closely, thinking how good he looked doing something simple like taking care of a family and what a perfect example he was that there was much more to a badass bad boy, much more.

It was only a low humming from Em, but the fact that she was humming the kissing song was what snapped Sam out of it. Yeah, they were both looking at him. "What? I just spaced..." he said a little defensively, quickly serving the stuffing and corn.

Dean grinned at Emily who grinned back. "You have a space cadet for a dad," Dean said, as he finished distributing the turkey, then started filling his plate with sides and passing them on to Sam. Dean stared at Sam periodically, especially when Sam and Emily were joking about something. An ache was in his heart over the thought of them leaving, probably soon after the new plates for the truck got here. He could hope for another snowstorm, but that would only be delaying the inevitable and make the goodbye even worse. ...He wanted to ask Sam to stay.

He _would_ ask Sam he suddenly decided. But not in front of Emily. He didn't want her to be crushed when Sam told Dean that they couldn't. They both knew he shouldn't stay but it didn't change the fact Dean wanted him to stay. So he would ask, at least letting Sam know Dean wished it could happen. Looking around at Bobby's house--he still considered it Bobby's even though it had legally been his for a couple years now--he could leave it, get some other retired hunter to take it over, do the research and answer the phones. Might take some time, but he bet he could find someone. Then he'd get that Impala restored...and he couldn't take that with him. He'd have the Mustang to drive. He'd fix up its exterior so it looked nice. Yeah, that was the fallback plan, he decided. He just wouldn't tell them that until he knew he could pull it off, and assuming Sam even _wanted_ him to join them.

Emily watched under her lashes until Dean had at least four mouthfuls of the stuffing, then she leaned across the table and whispered. "You just ate celery. Told you daddy is tricky," she laughed and sat back, sticking her fork into the turkey and stuffing too big a piece into her mouth.  
"And broccoli," Sam added fuel to the fire, laughing at Dean. "Learn to love it Dean, learn to love it. It's good for you."

"Dude, you are so not grocery shopping anymore," Dean harrumphed. "I eat green stuff. Lettuce. And I like peas. I do the peas thing. Corn on the cob rocks. Onions and green and red peppers and tomatoes. See, I eat plenty of vegetable. Even do carrots when I get the pot pie at the diner. I only pick some of them out. And you are so doing the dishes since you made me eat broccoli." 

Sam chuckled. "Lettuce is not that nu..."  
"...tritional!" Emily ended for him.

"And corn and tomatoes are not vege..."

"...tables."

"And broccoli and celery are very..."

"..." Em looked at her dad.

"Heal..."

"...healthy!"

"And they make you..."

"Strong." Smiling, she ate her stuffing.

"I could give you more details if you're interested, about iron content and nutrition and how it'll help you live longer," Sam offered, knowing full well Dean would rather let Emily paint his fingernails than hear his lecture.

Dean glared at the two, feeling ganged up on. He gave a soft snort and shook his head, eating another forkful of stuffing.

*

Emily was contentedly playing with her new doll in the living room and Dean was helping Sam put everything in the fridge and getting the dishes ready to be washed.

"Sam...." Dean started, his back to the man. He gave a sniff, trying to get up the courage to ask, knowing full well he'd be shot down. "...I was wondering if..." No, he wasn't going to turn around and look at Sam. He couldn't. "...would you and Emily like to stay here? You know, like, for a while. Uh, live here. With me."

"Hmm? We are...." The fork he was washing clattered to the bottom of the sink. Shutting the water off and drying his hands, Sam turned around and was faced with Dean's stiff back as the guy put away some things he'd dried. "Dean?" He put his hand on Dean's arm, pulling on him to make him turn. He couldn't be asking them to... could he? Sam's heart knocked against his chest. Thinking he had to have misunderstood, he cocked his head. "For... for how long. You mean in case there's a trial or..." He braced for disappointment but wore all his hopes in his eyes.

Dean looked into Sam's emotion-filled eyes and felt his pulse pounding in his veins. Maybe? Would he really? Even with the risk? "Like...uhm, as long as you wanted. You know a couple...uh, years. Or even decades or something." He was so ready for Sam to say no, they couldn't. It was too dangerous, it was nothing more than a pipe dream. And it was. He knew that. But he held his breath all the same.

A smile curved Sam's lips. He took a step toward Dean. "You mean... for real. Like you and me, and Emily?" Taking another step, still searching Dean's face, he closed his arms around Dean's waist. "Yeah, yeah Dean, I really, really would like that," he said. "But... are you sure? I mean it's not easy, I know that. We'd probably turn your life upside down and it might be dangerous, I mean..." he bit his lower lip to stop the tide of words, hoping with all of his heart this was real.

"Yeah, I mean you staying, living with me. And Emily too of course. You've already turned my life upside down and...well, it's not so bad, y'know?" He chuckled when Sam said 'dangerous.' "Sammy, I spent most of my life hunting supernatural bad asses. I think I can handle myself but you aren't the only one with enemies. I mean, I may have made a few enemies of the supernatural type. Never had any come after me, but...you just never know. And we gotta talk about this broccoli fetish of yours."

"You mean this unreasonable broccoli phobia of yours," Sam countered, "yes." He kissed Dean, slowly and thoroughly, like Dean belonged to him now, like he'd never let him go. Like he was _the one._ A soft moan broke from him and he kissed Dean one more time. "I'll have to talk to Em. I know she'll be alright with it, she loves you already. Oh," he gave a choked laugh. "I love you. I mean it, and you don't have to say anything, I mean that too," Sam said, swaying close one more time.

Dean kissed him back as intensely. "She already asked me to marry her. Her and you. I don't think it'll be an issue." Dean pulled Sam up close and stared into his eyes. "I don't say stuff like that, not usually. Not often. But don't ever doubt I lov--" Dean's cell phone went off and he closed his eyes. He was not going out tonight unless someone was dying or something.

He pulled his cell out of his pocket. "Yeah, Sheriff, what can I do you for?...yeah, you too...yeah, they are...you're kidding me...really? Seriously? ...Yeah, absolutely...yeah, real upset and torn up about it...no, consider them off the list...thanks, Sheriff, you just made it a whole lot merrier." Dean laughed. "I'm a selfish bastard that way...You too." 

Dean closed the phone and looked at Sam. "Guess Dex figured the cops were distracted with it being Christmas and all. Apparently they were since he managed to break out of jail or the hospital or wherever. Cops caught up with him, he was armed, wouldn't drop his gun and was stupid enough to shoot first. He got himself a body bag for Christmas. I also told her you wouldn't be going to trial as a witness for the other two thugs. Figure you don't bother them, they won't come hunting you."

"He's... dead?" Sam leaned back against the counter. "I probably should be feeling... _something_. I mean I lived with him but... I got nothing." He looked up. "Just relief." And maybe a little guilt. "You know what? That's okay," he said shrugging it off. "Dex is right, I did change. Because of you," he nodded. "So what were you saying... you know, about things you don't usually say, cause I'd like to hear that part again. Just once," he smiled, tugging Dean close and running his hands over his back.

Dean closed the distance between their lips and kissed Sam breathless. Finally, he whispered, "Love you, Sammy. Now. Always. Except when you feed me broccoli."

Sam chuckled happily. "Dean. My dad was right. The Impala does have some of that old love magic, it's how we found you." He hugged Dean hard, then releasing him, grabbed his hand and pulling him out of the kitchen. "Emily, Mr. Dean changed his mind, he says 'yes.'" 

Hearing her shriek and the clomp clomp of her too big shoes as she ran toward them, Sam's grin widened. "Best Christmas, ever."

"Best Christmas gift ever," Dean said, scooping up Emily and looking between the two. "A family."

THE END


End file.
